10 years
by laytonisawesome
Summary: Flora Reinhold and Clive Dove meet again ten years after the events of "The Unwound Future". One could imagine this first encounter doesn't go well... but ten years is a long time to allow for people to change. Whether it be for better or for worse...
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I do not own the characters from the Professor Layton franchise. **

**Specifically, the games Unwound Future and Layton Brothers Mystery Room.**

* * *

The young up-and-coming fashion designer works on designs that will be sure to impress. This is the most important project of her career for the deadline of a prestigious job promotion is soon approaching. She would prove her worth to the company that she has recently become a part of. Because fashion has become her life.

Something about the various designs of clothing made Flora feel free. It allows her to hide her fears under a protective layer of identity she wanted to assume. Some days she appeared refined, sophisticated, while other days she was spunky, or sassy. When the world witnesses her wearing her designs, they see her confidence and ambition. Traits she had strived to earn. There would be no limits to who she would become, but she knows she definitely wants to be _someone_. When inspiration hits Flora, it is nearly impossible to get her out of her far off land that is focus and concentration.

"Flor-Rah! There's someone at the dooor!" Alfendi bellows from downstairs.

Flora ignores her brother, too deeply buried in her work to be bothered, but his calls for her are relentless. Her train of thought departs and wouldn't return until she had peace and quiet.

She descends the stairs as fast as anyone could in a pair of three-inch heels. Flora prefers to dress professionally even if she didn't leave the house. Her brother Alfendi on the other hand could care less about how he appeared. He is found lounging in their father's reading chair. He sports a pair of baggy navy jean shorts and a crimson red T-shirt with a faint jam stain. His bare feet are propped up on the table and a Sherlock Holmes novel is in his hands. The most aggravating fact of all is that he is merely fifteen feet away from their foyer.

"Alfendi, why couldn't you have answered the front door?" Flora inquires, miffed by his laziness.

"I'm no longer permitted." He retorts in bitter resentment.

"Oh... right..." Flora remembers.

Her brother could be rather... tactless when he conversed with strangers. Many of Professor Layton's associates would pop in from time to time to speak with their father. When Alfendi spoke with them he had a tendency of being rude enough to scare them off. Both Layton and Flora are still trying to show him more respectful behavior and mannerisms, but at times Flora found his veracious bluntness to be a refreshing dose of honesty.

"Now you decide to listen?" Flora teases while ruffling up his messy head of red hair. She knew he hated that, but how can she resist? It is so adorable how his shaggy red mop sticks out every which way. Alfendi frowns at her before he sticks his nose back into his book, probably a little mortified.

Nothing could have ever prepared Flora for their visitor at the door that day.

Her welcoming smile she uses to greet all their lovely guests dissolves with a gasp, for she immediately recognizes the man. He still wears a dark blue jacket, a white button down shirt, a dark grey tie, and his mahogany pants. However, the fabrics are rather crumpled and his shirt is missing a button. His shoes have been scuffed and his tie tattered. If the clothes aren't convincing enough, the dark circles under his eyes provided evidence of his rough condition.

It has been ten long years, but she certainly could never forget him. He is a terrorist! He nearly destroyed all of London! He used her as a hostage! To this day he haunts her nightmares.

"Hello Flora," Clive Dove greets her very politely, though she stares back at him with eyes consumed by fear.

"EEEEeep!" Flora slams the door and hurriedly locks it before he can stop her. Her thoughts 'This can't be happening! How is he here? He should be rotting away in a cell! Far away from her!'

The knob jiggles a bit before he gives up. A fist pounds on the door, "Please open the door. I need to talk to you."

She hugs her arms and backs away. He knocks again, making it clear he isn't going to leave without getting what he came for, but he couldn't have her!

"Who is that?" Alfendi asks, apparent interest in his eyes. He throws his book aside without bothering to mark his page.

"No one," Flora squeaks, but she is clearly shaken. Flora's face has become much paler than usual, like a fragile porcelain doll. She could easily shatter to a million pieces.

Alfendi frowns, knowing that this is a lie, "What's wrong?"

"Flora?" A voice calls. It is no longer a muffled sound coming from behind the door they stand beside. It rings clearer from a different area of the house.

"Is he in our kitchen?" Alfendi asks incredulously.

When he says this, both look at one another with alarm wondering how he could have gotten into their house.

"The back door! It must have been unlocked!" she gasps in horror, "You have to get out of here!" Flora shoos her brother towards their father's study where there is a phone, "Call dad! And the police!"

"Why do I have to?" Alfendi looks up at her in disgust, still not understanding the severity of the dangers this certain intruder brings.

"Go please!" She begs him. If he is to listen to one request of hers she prays it is this one. He hesitates to leave her because she is so frantic, but with a firm push in that direction his long legs take him to the study in a few short strides.

She quickly removes her tall shoes and pushes them into a corner of the hallway so that she may move in silence. It would also benefit her to be flat on her feet in case she needs to make a run for it. Flora struggles to remain calm as she searches for this ghost from her past. Somewhere, he is lurking just waiting to snatch her again.

He is not spotted immediately when she peeks into their kitchen because he technically is not in their home. Clive rests his arms on the sill of an open window. She supposes that it would be rather foolish to be sent back to jail so soon for breaking and entering. His eyes directly lock with hers from behind the top pane of glass. Flora drops the eye contact feeling sickened to look at him. Her gaze falls to her painted toes as she carefully makes her way closer to the window.

"Flora," he begins sincerely, "I'm sorry. I am so so sorry. I know it is rather late, but you deserve an apology. What I did was monstrous. I have come here to beg for your forgiveness."

She slaps her hands on the window frame, having a few words to say to him as well. It takes all her inner strength to face him for she is shaking so terribly, "Your apology is not accepted!"

Clive shrinks back at the blatant response. She is glad to see it has wounded him, "But I've changed Flora! You'd only have to give me a chance to see that," he insists.

"Likely story! It sounds very similar to all the other lies you told!" She accuses. Everything he ever said was a lie. His words could not be trusted. He is a lying, deceiving, and manipulative criminal!

"No! Flora... I never wanted to hurt you," he sounds as if he is choked up, but she would not fall for it this time.

"I don't want to hear it Clive!" She goes to shut the window, but he places his hands flat on the sill to keep her from closing him out.

Flora jumps back with a scream at the sudden movement. As she cowers, the window suddenly slams shut and Clive lets out a yelp of pain. She glances up to see her brother opening the window again to allow Clive to release his smashed fingers. The second he pulls his hands away, Alfendi shuts the window and locks the latch to keep him out.

A hand goes to the back of Alfendi's wild hair with unease, "Dad is on his way," he mumbles. "I'll keep an eye on... Clive."

Tears stream down Flora's face and she hugs him tightly in his arms with unspoken gratitude and relief. Alfendi remains silent as she clings to him, while he tentatively pats her back and lets her sob into his mess of hair.

* * *

_Here are some things you should know. As you have noticed Alfendi is in this story! :D He's a young boy, but he doesn't get a definite age. If he is Layton's biological son then he may have just turned 10. If he is adopted I imagine he he was close to an age where he would understand this. He can be smart and insightful for his age, but still as immature as he pleases._ _I didn't give him a brother (if there is one) because we haven't been introduced to one. I personally believe Layton brothers refers to the personalities. _

_I'm guessing Flora's age during unwound future was 15? so in the story she is 25. Clive had to be 21 to go to a casino... (I'm not sure how little Luke got in because you do have to be 21 to go to a casino.) If we throw all logic away maybe he was 18 at the time. So 28-31 for him. _

_Alright! The age gaps are taken care of in the most vague way possible. :) I'm excited for this and once I post this first chapter there is no going back!_


	2. Chapter 2

**This chapter spoils the ending of Unwound Future! It is meant to be an informative recap for those who do not remember or are not familiar with the story, but would like to be able to understand the history behind this fanfiction's other main character. If playing Unwound future do not read between the dots! ••• **

Clive guessed something like this would happen. Well... maybe not the part where he was attacked with a window! But yes, something along those lines. He is very used to this unwanted treatment.

The red indentation stamped into his skin still throbs. He lies flat on his back cursing unpardonably in French, waiting for the pain to ebb. Who was that redheaded brat anyway?

"Hey! You!" The devil child shouts belligerently out the window, "Can't you take a hint!? She hates you! Get out of here!"

With all the dignity he has left, he stands and brushes off the dirt from his pants that still sticks to him after he had fallen onto his haunches. "I must speak to the Professor!"

The tendons in the young boy's neck are visibly tight even from this distance. "Forget it! Stay away from us!"

Clive sighs in exasperation and he leans back against a tree in their front yard. He is determined that he must wait no matter how long it takes to see his old friend. Whether it is tonight or next week. It really could be either one; the professor has always been a busy man.

"Why won't you go away!" The brat continues to shout at him.

He is not proud of arguing with the child, but he does end up stooping to his childish level, "Shut the window and ignore me if you don't like it!"

"I'll call the cops for trespassing!" He threatens.

Clive raises his hands, slightly alarmed now. "You really don't understand."

"Then enlighten me! What did you do to her!?" He spits venomously, "Are you one or her ex-boyfriends or something?"

Inappropriately rude laughter bubbles up from a place deeply suppressed inside him. Clive falls on his knees as he tries desperately to stop and catch a breath, but then he repeats what the boy said in his head and he cannot help but roll on the ground with he started laughing it was nearly impossible for him to quit. 'This boy must not keep very good track of Flora's suitors if he thinks that _I_ could possibly be one of them! When is the last time I laughed like this?'

The boy's fingernails claw the white paint of the window sill, thinking he is the one being scoffed at, "Stop laughing! Or I'll smash that nice face of yours too!"

Clive doesn't obey because he is intimidated by this threat. Suddenly he remembers another time he hadn't been able to stop laughing. Ten long years ago, the moment that Professor Layton figured out his entire scheme and discovered who he truly was.

•••

How could that one not laugh when the brilliant Professor Layton accuses that someone of not being the future version of his apprentice, Luke Triton, despite being an uncanny look-a-like. How could he not laugh when the professor claimed that everyone present in the Thames Arms restauraunt was _not_ ten years in the future like they were lead to believe, but in an underground replica London constructed with the help of an inheritance so large it was beyond measure. He was accused of being a man by the name of Clive Dove. He was the one responsible for kidnapping the Prime Minister Bill Hawks and the most brilliant scientists of the time to build a weapon that would destroy the city of London.

It was all true... He had done all of that. All while standing by his side the entire time. As if he were a dear friend to him.

When Clive had been orphaned that day his biological parents were killed... it was in that very same explosion Layton had lost the love of his life, Claire. This was discovered later on of course... after the professor saved him from the rampage that should have destroyed everything. He had managed to save both Londons. And he stayed with Clive long enough for him to sincerely apologize for becoming a complete lunatic as he was hauled off to prison.

•••

Clive does finally tame those rude chuckles upon remembering that horrible time. He is surprised Professor Layton and Luke Triton forgave him for such atrocities. As for Flora...

He sighs before giving a sarcastic reply to this boy that was so angry with him. "You could say Flora and I were briefly acquainted. I whisked her away very abruptly and I took my boat and sped into the sunset... Then I kept her captive in a dome and proceeded to destroy the very city that ruined my life with my fortress of destruction." He gives a bitter laugh, no longer amused.

This explanation thoroughly puzzles the boy as he processes this unexpected answer. His eyebrows are raised in disbelief at why Clive possibly thought that was a good idea for a getaway, romantic or otherwise. He soon comes to the conclusion that Clive did not take Flora on a date of any kind and when he realizes this, his face lights up in what can only be described as... delight?

He leans out the window excitedly, "Wait... I've heard of you! You're a criminal!"

Clive stares back at him, slightly concerned by this look he is receiving, "I prefer ex-convict." The boy quickly glances over his shoulder, for any sign of Flora he would guess.

"Stay right there!" He says throwing up his hands, motioning for him to not leave like he had told him to do so many times before this. A window along the same wall of the house opens. To his astonishment, the maniac recklessly leaps out of his house and dives into the grass. Then, this brash, human bulldozer comes straight at him! This actually almost is enough to scare Clive off right the Layton's property. It is because the boy is no longer hostile towards him that Clive does not take off running while he still has the chance. This is also the first person to dare to come towards him after knowing what he had done.

The boy actually smiles hugely as he stops in front of him and this keeps Clive planted like the tree behind him. His wavy hair is a deep and vibrant burgundy that sticks out at wild angles like a mad scientist. He is very tall for someone of such young age and his yellow eyes lock on him like a predator, but they are wide with awe.

"Wow!" He breathes, the way one would when encountering a famous person. He clenches his fists excitedly, "This is so cool! I can't believe I didn't recognize you! I'm such a huge fan! Look, I have the article right here!"

He pulls out a brown edged newspaper article from his back pocket and holds it out to him, almost as if he is seeking his autograph. Clive takes the crumbling paper in his hands. He may be famous, but by no means should he be a role model to anyone.

"Exactly why are you a fan of mine?" Clive skeptically enunciates his every word in response to such a remarkably undeserved admiration.

"Because you are a criminal mastermind! This is like the coolest day of my life!" he tells him, dropping to his knees beside him, "I'm Alfendi by the way. Alfendi Layton."

"A pleasure." Clive extends his hand to shake his. Alfendi crinkles his nose at the gentlemanly gesture, and instead gives the palm a low five slap.

"Hmmng!" Clive stifles a cry of pain at having his injured hand be hit once again by this boy. He looks back at his young companion thoroughly confused now. Maybe he had fallen behind the times in prison? Was a handshake too formal for this Alfendi's tastes? He just assumed since this was the son of Professor Layton... but could he_ really_ be that man's son?'

"Did you build it all by yourself?" Alfendi asks suddenly, returning the focus to his article.

"No... I didn't." He gulps, remembering all too well what he had done to accomplish those terrible goals, "I had people build it for me. I stole them away from their families. I made them believe they would never see them again if they didn't do what I told them."

"Blackmail… I see. That's really despicable." Alfendi states nonchalantly.

"Yes, I am..." Clive slouches, resting an elbow on his knee so that he may cover his face in shame.

"Were..." Alfendi corrects him, "You're not a bad guy anymore. You did your time."

Clive doesn't respond, knowing this isn't true. He would always be the bad guy.

"You did do the time... right?" Alfendi whispers, sounding like he hopes he hasn't.

"Yes I did!" Clive snaps at him. "Is this funny to you!? Prison is not a joke, do you understand? My criminal life is nothing of interest, I'm going to tell y now that you don't want to be one!"

A stunned Alfendi shuts up very abruptly and Clive worries he might have been a bit too harsh. 'Great... now he traumatized the poor kid...'

But soon the boy's features relax again and a smile returns, bigger than ever. "You are sooo coooool!" He exaggerates. "We've got to hang out. All the time!"

Clive sighs, running a hand through his hair, "I'd like that. Really I would, but I'm not sure how long I'm going to be sticking around..." he says, trying not to hurt his feelings.

"Well what did you come here for anyway?" Alfendi asks.

"I want to start over," Clive states very simply.

"That still doesn't tell me why you came to my house," Alfendi frowns as he rips up a handful of grass in childlike boredom.

"I came here to see the Professor and ask for his advice. I also never apologized to Flora for... kidnapping her. Even if she doesn't believe it I am very sorry I did that."

Alfendi shrugs, "I don't think you're so bad. I'm kind of glad I didn't chop off your fingers with that makeshift guillotine," he laughs at the violent image of his window smashing while Clive takes a glance at his lucky fingers still attached to him. "I say you guys are even now."

It doesn't feel like his sins are lessened any. He feels as guilty as before. "No, I think you're wrong. For someone as sweet as Flora to hate me so much... it must mean I'm still doing something wrong."

Alfendi snickers at his sappy words. "Don't sweat it. Flora is the most forgiving person ever. I should know, I screw up all the time," he grins widely at this, revealing shining silver wires and brackets attached to his teeth.

Clive actually returns a small smirk when he says this because it looks like he isn't the only troublemaker here.


	3. Chapter 3

_Little kid Alfendi's point of view is so much fun_

* * *

Alfendi always thought meeting a criminal would be more... electrifying... or something along those adrenaline filled lines. Clive simply sits in the grass beside him, trying to avoid his unwavering stare. His range of questions goes mostly unanswered as he tires of the interrogating and simply starts to ignore him. It figures his first criminal wouldn't be cooperative because they never were for detectives like him. But Sherlock never needed answers given to him so neither would he. He had always been observant. Well then, he could find the answers himself with the evidence before him!

Alfendi analyzes his subject intently wondering what conclusions this skill practice would yield.

He begins to tap his thumbs together at a steady beat. This captures his complete attention and Alfendi examines the movement far too deeply, 'He's impatient!'

Clive finally sighs and lays in the lawn. He stretches an arm over his eyes to block out the setting sun. 'He is certainly bored. I know I am. I called dad nearly a half an hour ago. Where is he anyway?'

Just then, a funny, red car with an usually high ceiling comes zooming down the street. It parks with a screaming screech in front of their house.

"Perfect timing!" Alfendi muses to Clive with amusement as he runs to his father exiting his absurd little vehicle.

The gentleman shuts the automobile's door with a slam and grips the rim of his top hat so that it would not leave his head as he ran up to his son. "Alfendi!" Layton addresses him urgently, his dark eyes wide in alarm. "Where is Flora? You said someone broke in?"

"Dad! Dad!" Alfendi points excitedly, "Look who came! It's that guy! The one you told me about! From the other London thing!"

The brief and not very specific description puzzles Layton thoroughly, but Clive takes the opportunity to approach them since he did receive an introduction of sorts. His father slows his pace and stops upon recognizing him, no longer alarmed.

"Clive... I heard of your release. I had a feeling I would see you again," his father nods to the old acquaintace.

"Hello professor." He greets him, though he is already unsure of himself now that he is actually talking with dad, "I'm sorry I stopped by unannounced."

"It's no trouble at all," Layton assures their guest.

'Maybe not for you!' His father wasn't here when he had thought his sister was in danger. Alfendi happens to still be very irked about this and dad's polite mannerisms aren't helping that.

"Do come in," Layton ushers Clive. Clive looks over his shoulder with unease, as if he shouldn't be doing so, but then he warily steps foot inside their home.

'Paranoia. Definitely paranoia,' Alfendi diagnoses. 'He doesn't want to run into Flora again,' he concludes.

Alfendi glances around also to see if Flora is around anywhere. He hears the constant sound of floorboards squeaking uneasily from above. She is pacing. 'She knows that he's here...' he realizes, 'but she's much too afraid to come down here just yet.'

Clive sits at their small table in the middle chair adjacent to the window overlooking the garden out back. This is where their father normally sat between Al and his sister for dinner time. Alfendi pulls up the seat beside him while his father places a kettle of water on the stove top.

"How long were you in prison?" Alfendi inquires from their guest.

Clive scowls, not thrilled to be talking about this again, "Ten years."

Alfendi's nose crinkles in confusion, "Only ten? I thought you tried to destroy London. How did you get out so fast?"

"Well... I tried, you see. I didn't actually get to do much damage," Clive explains.

"Still, it was an attempt," Alfendi points out.

Clive tries to hold his angry tongue, but his response is still very curt, "There were many factors to my sentencing."

"Like what?"

"I... did not deny I was guilty," Clive admits with much discomfort, "They also... found me to be very unstable mentally."

"So you got an insanity plea, huh?"

"Yes, alright? I was not in a sound state of mind at all." Clive shakes his head at this with much shame, but then he offers more to this story, "The biggest element was probably Bill Hawks himself. He did a fine job digging his own grave, trying to denounce me at my trial." He scowls at this and closes his eyes, "He finally met justice."

"Oh! You mean the corrupt Prime Minister that went to prison?" Alfendi remembers learning about the political scandal in school. Bill Hawks was found to be responsible for all sorts of crimes including murder at a trial of his own. His dad had testified as a witness in court and he knew the detective that put him away. Inspector Chelmey! They are great friends, besides him being the world's biggest grump. Alfendi didn't mind much because he was and he has Barton as an assistant detective constable. What a crime solving duo they are! A real Sherlock and Watson!

A new question forms in Alfendi's curious mind about prison and Bill Hawks, "Did you ever see Hawks when you were-"

The mention of the name set Clive off like a cold metal bear trap. "NO! I did not see that vile man!"

Alfendi actually flinches in surprise. He wasn't expecting this to provoke Clive in this way, but it had. Alfendi finds that he secretly loves the jolt of adrenaline that had just flashed through him. It really did feel like lightening! This violent retort is so much more invigorating in real life rather than in his fictional murder mystery novels!

"Alfendi! Be kind to our guest please." Layton immediately turns on him after Clive's outburst.

Alfendi grits his teeth in annoyance, 'What a kill joy... I didn't even do anything, Clive was the one who yelled at me! Things were just getting interesting too...' he pouts

"Is there a tea you prefer Clive?" Layton asks the guest.

"I'm not particular," he responds agreeably.

"Is Earl Grey alright?" Clive's lip twitches down, but he simply tells him that would be fine.

Hershel places a tea bag in the water of the teapot. Teacups on little saucers are brought to the table on a small tray. Layton takes the last seat at their little round table for three. Alfendi watches the two men prepare their tea. Clive adds sweeteners, while his father drinks the untampered tea, just the way he likes it too.

'Clive doesn't care for Earl Grey then,' Alfendi decides, 'But he wishes to be polite in front of father... Good thing for me, because I like Earl Grey.' Alfendi eagerly sips the hot liquid, letting it burn his tongue while the adults carry on with boring grown up matters.

"So why have you decided to see me today, Clive?" Layton brings his cups to his lips and calmly drinks his tea as well.

"You are one of the only friends I have left in this city," Clive admits with rueful sorrow. "This compromises any pride I have... but I need help starting over... What do I do now?" Clive murmurs. The professor nods at what a predicament this would be, though Alfendi doesn't see how he could possibly empathize.

"You could leave!" Flora appears from nowhere. Alfendi hadn't even heard her step into the room, but here she is, her arms crossed and her eyes burning anyone who dared to look at her. Yet no one could look away. They were all so shocked by her blatant rudeness. "_Now._"

"Woah." Alfendi accidentally utters aloud. Now everyone has their eyes on him. He couldn't help it. He has never seen her this angry before. It was so out of character for her. 'Flora really _does_ hate Clive!'

Clive glares back at her, completely unfazed by the intensity of her hostility, "I would be glad to, right after I am finished speaking with the professor."

Layton himself attempts to speak, but Flora doesn't give him the chance. "What do you need the professor's help for!?" She accuses. "He can't fix what you have done!"

"That's not what this is about!" He shouts back, "I just want to live some sort of decent life now."

"Decent?" Her raised voice becomes shriller the more she yells, "What decent things would you plan on doing!?"

"To be honest, I haven't really thought that far ahead! I've just left prison with nothing but the clothes on my back!" He shouts back at her, "Before I start performing noble deeds I would like to ensure I have something to fall back on!"

"You can live on the streets," Flora retorts bitterly, "That's a perfect place for scum like you!"

Clive rolls his eyes, "I won't be on the streets and I refuse to be a burden to anyone. Unlike you." he crosses his arms, almost smirking.

Flora scowls at him, taking immediate offense. "I am not a burden to my family!"

"That is enough!" Layton interrupts, ending the argument with his firm, impossibly calm voice. Flora shuts right up and Clive dips his head shamefully. Alfendi himself is rather shocked that two adults just fought with so much immaturity.

"Do you have a place to reside, Clive?" Flora shoots a look of disbelief to her father, but he seems to ignore it.

"I haven't asked yet, but I was hoping Cog and Spring would take me. They wrote me a few letters over the years. Not recently, but... I hoped-" Clive trails off, not as confident in this idea anymore, "I guess I won't know until I see them."

Alfendi furrows his brows. He recalled those names, but where had he heard weird names like those before?

"Actually, Cog and Spring passed away a year ago," his father informs Clive.

The lightbulb goes off and Alfendi suddenly remembers it very clearly now. He had to dress up for a dumb funeral. All those crying people... And he didn't even get to see the bodies. Alfendi scowls at how boring the event had been.

"No... That..." He pauses before insisting, "That can't be! Someone would have told me!" He looks to each one of them individually, desperately, for any signs at all that this was a lie. His father looks at him with sympathy in his eyes while Flora simply bows her head. Clive then looks to Alfendi, who can only shrug awkwardly. When no one says anything to him, he abandons denial and can only give in to the doubt in his claim which quickly leads him to the truth.

The poor, broken man clenches his fists in grief and his eyes shut tightly, trying not to express any of his pain. His voice becomes very thick and quickly mutters to himself, "I-I need a minute." Abruptly, he steps out the back exit adjacent to him, slamming the door behind him so that the whole house shook.

This left the Layton's in a very uncomfortable silence. Alfendi whistles uneasily, trying to break the quiet tension, "Soooo..."

Flora attempts to abandon the awkwardness altogether, but she isn't able to make herself scarce in time.

"Flora," Layton calls to her. She winces, before turning to meet their father's gaze. He gives his sister the look he received on a regular basis. The one that suggested they should do what a gentleman... or lady ought to do.

Alfendi doesn't understand why she is resisting, 'How hard would it be to apologize?'

Flora shuts her eyes, almost as if she is pained, "No."

"I know you are angry, but please reconsider," Layton requests, "He has no money and nowhere to go."

Flora brings a hand to her mouth, her curled fingers pressed against her lips fearfully, "He can't be trusted. We can't let him stay here."

Alfendi gasps. 'Wait! Clive is staying here!?' He is so in! "Clive can stay in my room!"

"I said no! Absolutely not!" Flora refuses immediately.

"Dad, can we get bunk beds!?" He receives a strange glance from his father for his enthusiasm.

"This is for Flora to decide, son." Alfendi crosses his arms with a grumble, wishing he had a say. His opinion never mattered in this household.

"I really don't want him here," Flora repeats.

"Then it's settled," Layton slowly stands and retreats to his study to probably grade the stack of college papers he assigned, but never always procrastinated on when it came time to grade.

Alfendi can scarcely believe the injustice of his ruling, 'But dad almost never relents when he wanted _him_ to do something right. He would always insist on choosing the correct and gentlemanly thing to do. How come Flora is being let off the hook so easily? This is so unfair!'

Alfendi pleads with his sister, "Clive's really not so bad!"

"He is a liar, Al! I would know," she says firmly.

Alfendi looks out the window at Clive sitting on the small bench they had in their garden. He grips the armrest bar tightly and the way he is staring ahead at nothing. Alfendi didn't know to what extent his lies were, but he did know one thing for certain: Clive had not known that his two, old friends had died.

"I'm not saying you should be happy to help him... But it is the right thing to do," Alfendi states, "You are being really selfish."

This upsets her much more than he intended. She chokes on a sob and covers her face with her hands in shame. "I know that!"

Alfendi hurriedly brings one of her pretty handkerchiefs, "I think it would be alright. If you think about it you won't actually see him. You work and he wants to get a job. It'll be like he won't even be here."

She squints her eyes behind the hanky, not appeased by this, "I really don't want him around you either."

"I'll be at school most of the time." He says in a chipper tone, but she still isn't appeased. "Flora... the guy is pathetic... You can see he needs help. I mean did you see how bad his clothes were?"

She nods vigorously at this. She still doesn't seem to be ready to agree, but she is quiet now and isn't blatantly turning him down.

"Can he stay for just one week... please?" He knows he's pushing it, but he had to try. "Can you have mercy on the poor guy?"

She lets out a very deep exhale, but then she holds up one finger, "One week then," she utters in defeat.

Alfendi nearly cheers in triumph, until Flora adds viciously, "After that, I want him gone!" She retreats to her room then, making it clear this invitation would close very soon.

* * *

_I have punished Bill Hawks for his crimes. Your welcome. __At the end of Unwound Future, it seemed that Chelmey knew what Bill did, and he made that comment about criminals getting what is coming to them. Bill got upset and Chelmey simply said he was just stating the facts. I believe that is likely what could have followed for Hawks._

_I killed off Cog and Spring. I'm really sorry, it was necessary for the story. They were elderly, it isn't unreasonable, and I let them live nine years longer._

I hope you are still enjoying the story!


	4. Chapter 4

"Clive! Clive!" The door shuts with an audible slam. Something that sounds like a backpack is dropped to the ground.

'Is it too late to run?' Clive wonders, not wanting his short nap to end just yet.

"Clive! There you are!" Alfendi calls, finding Clive slumped at the table in the kitchen. He slides into the seat beside him, waiting for a greeting.

'Yup. It's too late.'

Clive lifts his head as Alfendi proceeds to drop a plunder of colorful flyers in a messy heap before him. He raises an eyebrow, "What do you have here?"

"I stopped at a bunch of local businesses after school today. I saw lots of places hiring," Alfendi tells him. He holds up an application for a pizza parlor and shoves the rest aside, "You should try this one first!"

"Pizza huh?" The boy's red curls bounce when he nods, "I think I'll pass."

Alfendi's face falls at his answer, "But why?"

"Because... It won't work out," he sighs. They will decline him just like everyone else he had called today. No one was hiring employees with criminal records.

"But think of the free pizza!" Clive rolls his eyes and Alfendi crosses his arms at his lack of cooperation. "You can't be too choosy. We need to put forth more effort than this if you want to live here."

"What if I don't want to..." Clive mutters under his breath. His negativity receives an unexpected whack across the face. Clive immediately brings a hand to his cheek. "Ow!"

"I am trying to help you!" The boy insists, with a newspaper rolled up in his hands like a baseball bat, "Do you know how hard it was to persuade Flora? You'll never be allowed to stay if you spend your time lazing around!"

"I am not staying long," he winces, "Trust me."

Thanks to this morning, he can be certain of that claim.

A strange buzzing woke Clive before the sun had risen. It was very disorienting finding himself on an unfamiliar couch in the same sloppy clothes he had worn the day before. He had to take a moment to remember he was no longer in his empty cell of solitude. This was the real world, and in the real world there were alarms to wake one up.

He stood up and tried to process in his mind where this sound was coming from, grudgingly following it while still rubbing his eyes. A strong and bitter fragrance wafted in the air. That smell brought back long hours, drifting late into the night as he worked on the construction of his mobile fortress of destruction. He hadn't eaten since his release, but the smell made his stomach churn. When he found the coffee maker he was tempted to dump the whole pot of the brew.

Then a new sound had made itself known, someone running down the stairs with small footsteps. The point of heels on the hardwood floors could not be any more obnoxious at this early hour. Each step seemed to pierce his eardrums. Clack! Clack! Clack! Clack!

She stopped in her tracks when she stumbled upon him in the kitchen. She was suited in a red jacket that matched her skirt perfectly. Her long hair was pulled back into a very large bun, except for her short curly bangs. Ruby glasses were perched on her nose, but her eyes quickly turned away at the sight of him looking back at her.

He stretched his arms wide and gave her a very sarcastic good morning, addressing her like a ray of sunshine and not the angry little thunder cloud she was. But she didn't find him amusing in the slightest and didn't dare to acknowledge him. She ended up storming out of the room with a huff. He tried to shrug it off, but it still bothered him as he ran a hand through his shaggy hair.

Was this really the girl he knew a decade ago? That sweet naive girl who was perfectly polite? This rudeness and snottiness reflected an entirely warped personality. What ever happened to her? The attempt to be casual and make light of the situation had failed. She was going to refuse to be pleasant no matter what he did. Fine. If this was how it was going to be he could live with that. He supposed keeping his distance would be best. He found that it was just better to avoid the people that hated you.

He stepped outside for the time being, waiting for her to leave, as he breathed the cold and crisp morning air. He took claim of a damp newspaper he discovered nestled in the dewy lawn. He was almost excited to be looking for work, just this morning, to make a clean start and figure out what he would want to do with the remainder of his life. Behind his paper of possibilities, he didn't even see Flora until they collided. She let out a startled yelp as she lost her footing and fell to the ground. Her entire thermos of burning coffee had spilled on them both. Flora was the most upset about it because her entire outfit was soaked and stained.

"Ow ow! Ahh!" She cried at being drenched in the painfully hot liquid.

Clive ignored his own discomfort because he was so startled by the mistake. "Are you alright?"

She looked up at him as if he was crazy. Okay, it was obvious that she wasn't. He reached out a hand to help her up, "I'm-"

He was unable to apologize because she would not allow it. She refused his help and hastily retreated inside before he could reach her. In one remarkably fast instant, she had come back in completely fresh clothing. She had traded the ruined suit for a pair of black dress pants and a tasteful coral blouse. It was impossible to tell anything had happened. She veered around him without a word and he could have easily let her be on her way.

"Flora wait!" Her eyes widened before a look of fury flashed in them as he tried to stop her. "I didn't mean-"

"-I don't have time for this! Get out of my way! I'm going to be late!" She yelled frantically. She clutched her briefcase and lifted it high as if she was about to strike him.

Clive backed off immediately and she ran far, far down the street in those crazy high heels. Only after she had gone did he notice that his own drenched pants could no longer be worn. It had been rather embarrassing to explain to the professor, but he mercifully loaned him an old red vest and tan pants from his old college days. It was the closest thing to his size and was the best they could do.

Alfendi finally brings him back to the present. "Do you think you could maybe make Flora warm up to you better somehow?"

He scoffs more rudely than he meant to, "I doubt there is anything that would change her mind about me."

"She really isn't all that mean," Alfendi taps his thumbs together nervously, but he still finds a way to defend her, "She's just... stubborn sometimes."

"I don't really care one way or the other. Most people don't like me anyway," Clive says, indifferently. It was a very easy thing to say, but it wasn't always the truth.

"I like you," Alfendi chimes innocently, "You can be cool when you aren't all depressed and mopey."

Clive blinks in astonishment. 'When did he notice this?'

Clive had struggled with this depression... since the day his mother and father had passed. It might have been before that as well. His family had lived in near poverty in their tiny apartment. Clive remembers wishing he could have nice things like toys and clothes and food. When his parents were killed, he was soon adopted and gained all that. He got that wish at the cost of his parents' lives. Needless to say, the guilt stayed with him ever since, and he no longer desired material things. Constance was a very loving guardian figure and had become his dear friend, but it did not and would not ever replace the love he had for his true parents. The guilt in his heart would not allow it. Not a day went by that he didn't think of them. He knew Layton was a good man and that he certainly would have died if he had run back into the building. Somedays though, it seems like it would have been easier if he had perished that day as well.

How could this boy be overlooking this aspect of him? The one most people never even noticed? He shrugs as gratefully as he could at the strange compliment, "Thanks... I'll fill out the applications tomorrow and turn them in," he assures him, "I just could use a break right now."

Alfendi nods in approval, deciding he will permit this. "Can you play a game with me then?"

"Like what?" Clive wonders warily. 'What exactly does this little maniac find fun?'

"I've got board games in my room," Alfendi suggests eagerly. The kid doesn't bother to wait for his answer. He flies to the stairs without delay. "You got to come too!" He calls, "Help me pick one!" Clive sighs, but gets up from his chair to assist him. If all else failed maybe he could be reduced to a babysitter.

He reaches the top step, but Alfendi is nowhere to be found. Behind one of the three identical doors in the narrow hallway is the boy he is looking for. He doesn't know which to choose so he simply opens the one he is already standing directly in front of.

"Of course," He grumbles. With the rotten luck he possessed he chose the wrong one: Flora's room to be more precise.

He is surprised to find it to be the mess it is. Especially compared to the rest of the Layton's tidy home. Clothes are everywhere. Hats, shirts, suits, blouses, skirts, pants, purses, scarves, and dresses completely cover every surface of the room. They are draped over chairs, on her bed, on the ground, hanging on hangers, and even on mannequins. On her desk are drawings of stylish designs. Sewing tools and materials are scattered across every surface. On her walls are pictures of her family. There was Flora from many years ago holding a baby he assumed was Alfendi and another of the two of them laughing from more currently. He couldn't help grinning at having some proof that Flora actually could smile is a sewing machine at another table, and on the chair beside it is the red suit Flora had been wearing before. He also spots bright red fabric that it had been cut from.

'No way. She made that? ...She makes all of this?' He has to admit he is impressed. Now he actually felt much more guilty for destroying something that had probably meant a lot to her.

'So this is what Flora does for a living.' Just then, the last sound he wanted to hear is heard. The hideous clacking of shoes that could only belong to one person. He doesn't want to look, but he is very obligated to.

"W-what are you doing!?" An alarmed squeak escapes her. Her face reddens in anger and he is certain this has definitely crossed a line.

"I was looking for Alfendi," He lifts his hands up defensively, but it only makes him appear all the more guilty.

She stomps up the stairs in an instant and he immediately backs away at the amount of hostility she displays. She takes the doorknob and slams shut the glimpse he had of her life.

"Don't you ever open this door!" She screams at him, "Is that clear!?"

"Crystal," Clive notes, almost fearful of this little woman's amount of rage.

"What's going on?" Alfendi inquires, poking his head out of the second door in the hall.

"Nothing," They say at once. Both look at one another, but then drop their gazes to their feet.

He either ignores the tense atmosphere or is oblivious to it. "Do you want to play a game with us, Flora?"

Her flame of anger is dimmed almost instantaneously at her brother's question. She looks to Alfendi and then back to Clive, seeming torn.

"No, I have work to do..." She lies much too obviously.

"But Flora-" She retreats into her room, the slammed door cutting off his words.

"But Flora always plays with me," Alfendi pouts, leaning his forehead against the door frame sadly. The look of sadness displayed on his face suggests this is the first time she has ever done this to him. From what he has picked up on the siblings must be very close and this rejection has really hurt him.

"You know it's my fault again," he tries to jest, "She wouldn't think twice about it playing a game with you if it were just you."

"Will you still play?" he asks him, some hope returning to his shining golden irises.

"Yeah... Go pick out your favorite one or something." Alfendi smirks just a bit and his hair falls over his eyes in a very sinister way before he disappears into his room to get the said favorite game. Clive has a feeling this may not end well for him. And neither will this...

He returns to Flora's door and knocks twice with his knuckles, then once, and then three times. It was his special knock, the one he used for every occasion, "Ahem... I know you don't want any more apologies-"

The muffled reply from the other side sounds very irritated with him as always, "Would you just leave me alone?"

"-But I am sorry that I wasn't paying attention and ruined that outfit of yours today. It was very pretty and it really is a shame."

"Are you done?" She demands.

"No," He tells her, "I actually wanted to thank you."

The surprise in her voice rings very clear. "What for!?"

"For not throwing me out on the streets like you wanted," he clarifies.

"Oh that," he hears her mutter softly. Other than that one whisper, she doesn't reply to him.

"That was it," he tells her awkwardly before stepping away, clasping his hands behind his back.

It actually wasn't it, but he decided to keep it short and simple. It was impossible to put into words all he wanted to apologize for. He sighs and descends the stairs, starting to figure out that no matter how many of these apologies he had for her, they were never going to make a difference.

* * *

_Ok I think Alfendi may actually be about 9 and going on 10. I seem to be writing him very young. __It's pretty funny to make bad things happen to Clive because at this point he just kinda takes it and it barely even bothers him anymore. Flora is really difficult to write like this, she'll lighten up... eventually._

_Well stay tuned, I'm planning some of this and none of it at the same time. Boy it's hard to write short chapters now. I am just gonna do what I think is right. Whatever is easiest. _


	5. Chapter 5

Chess is Alfendi's favorite game for many reasons. The complexity involved made each battle different. One always had to have various strategies up their sleeve for every move their challenger made. And his goal was to take out the king of a monarch's army, what was not to like? Especially when he won, and boy did he love winning. His aggressive gameplay usually wielded very positive results. Except when he played against dad, but that didn't count no one could ever beat him anyway.

He lines up his prisoners along the side of the board like a parade humming a cheerful tune. Clive leans against his hand and stares at the board, trying to ignore Alfendi's childish antics. He has already lost two rounds against his young opponent. His brows are furrowed in fierce concentration while he is stuck deciding between saving his bishop and his rook.

Clive is a very defensive player. He puts more of his efforts into protecting his threatened pieces, not wanting to lose any of them, which made it very difficult to make a kill. He isn't afraid to attack as long as his pieces are safe. It reminds him of how Flora plays because she protects her pieces as if they are each precious. With this figured out it is much easier to predict his moves.

Clive finally moves his knight and it effectively protects both the pieces. This is exactly what Alfendi had been hoping for. With that pesky piece out of the way Alfendi slides his queen right to his opponent's king. Now every possible escape had been blocked off.

"Checkmate," Alfendi sneers, "I beat you again!"

Clive slams a fist on the table at his boneheaded mistake and losing the third match in a row. This has become downright embarrassing for him. This only makes Alfendi's own grin grow.

"_Zut_!" He curses, "_Je ne peux pas le croire_!"

Alfendi's nose crinkles in confusion at his odd reaction to defeat. "What language is that? What are you saying?"

"It's French..." Clive brings a hand to his head, looking shameful. He doesn't offer a translation either, "Sorry, it's an old habit."

"French huh?" This is unexpected, but it has piqued his interest, "Where did you learn that?"

Clive leans over the table, putting his pieces back into their starting places. Just like his sister, he wouldn't be content until he was victorious. "I studied it when I lived with my adopted guardian, Constance."

"Why? Did she make you?" Alfendi crosses his arms in rebellion. Adults were always making him do stuff. They never seemed to understand he had better things to do than do dumb homework or pointless puzzles.

"She spoke it. We were able to spend time together and bond that way." He gives a shrug, "I liked it, being bilingual has its advantages."

"Like what?" Alfendi wonders.

"Oh... Girls," he laughs once at this, before he becomes a bit lost in nostalgia, "In school I would use it on people I didn't like. Bullies were usually never smart enough to understand that I was telling them off if I used the right tone," he says with a smirk. Then his usual frown returns. "Of course they would beat me up regardless. I didn't belong with all those snotty rich kids and they made sure I knew it."

Alfendi leans his chin on his hand as he sets his pieces too. "Bullies are stupid."

Flora finally comes skipping down into the kitchen. She is in an oddly good mood after locking herself in her room for the past hour. Alfendi thought she was still mad at them and was going to ignore them the rest of the night, but she has a huge smile on her face like nothing at all could bother her.

She wears a very pretty pink dress with her initials stitched elegantly at the end of the skirt. Her makeup is natural with a hint of sparkles on her eyelids. Perfect curls of chestnut, auburn, and hazel rest delicately behind her shoulders. It was so pretty when she wore her hair down or at least he has always thought so.

Alfendi knew that if she was all dolled up like this, she must have somewhere to be. "Where are you going tonight?" He asks her.

"A fashion show. I've got a few of my designs on the runway tonight." She beams proudly.

"That's cool," Alfendi mutters to himself. It looks like this would be another typical quiet evening. At least he had Clive now to keep him company. He wouldn't be all bored sitting around watching television or reading all night.

But she doesn't leave just yet. She passes by the two of them and to Alfendi's ultimate horror she turns on the stove. His mind goes blank and he has to be reminded by Clive that it is his turn to move. But this is no time to be concerned about a silly game when a crisis like this has arisen. He pushes a random pawn forward without a glance.

"Are you making dinner, Flora?"

"Mm-hmm." She hums as she reaches into the refrigerator for ingredients to go into another batch of food poisoning.

Alfendi's mind races to think of anything to say to stop her. "Umm. I already ate."

Her hands stop rummaging. "Oh... I suppose I did get down here rather late," She realizes with a forlorn expression casting down on her face. He tries not to let on how relieved he is that this has stopped her. But he has forgotten one crucial mistake.

"No you haven't," Clive gives him a funny look because he has been here with him this entire time.

Flora glances over Clive's head distrustfully, not about to listen to him, unless Alfendi confirms it. "Well which is it?"

He tries to explain himself, "Uh no... But you have to go soon. I can make something-"

"I've got plenty of time. I can whip something up quick. It isn't any trouble at all," Flora assures him. Alfendi slumps in his seat with a moan of pain that comes from the pit of his stomach. It wasn't going to be so easy to lie anymore when he had a witness ratting him out.

Alfendi puts absolutely no effort into this next game because Flora is much too distracted to focus. He keeps an eye on her and watches her add more ingredients to this unknown catastrophe. Frozen chicken, rice that hadn't been boiled, potatoes with the skins, a can of tomato soup, a hunk of cheese, half a jar of olives, and... is that powdered sugar she's sprinkling over the mess? That is it, there is no fixing this one.

"Check," Clive mentions. When he doesn't answer Clive finally notices something is unsettling Alfendi. He follows Alfendi's gaze and nearly sends himself reeling out of his chair at the shocking sight he had been oblivious to.

"What are you doing!?" Clive blurts out rudely to his sister. Flora jumps and glances over her shoulder in surprise. She looks all around not having any idea what is wrong.

"What?" She finally asks, not knowing what he meant by the sudden outburst.

He abandons their game and walks over to peer down at what she has thrown into the pan. He is so flabbergasted he can hardly form words. "Wh-what is this?"

"It's a meal. What does it look like?" Flora tells him, "I'm just cooking!"

Alfendi flies out of his own chair and stands behind Flora. He desperately crosses his hands back and forth behind her back trying to warn Clive to drop this topic.

"Are you?" Clive challenges her. "You can't make it like this. It should have all been separated. This might as well be thrown into the rubbish bin now."

Alfendi smacks his forehead, 'Now he has done it!'

"No it shouldn't!" She wails. The rude words are attacking her more than they should. "What is your problem!?"

"You don't have any idea what you are doing!" He scolds her.

While they are preoccupied arguing Alfendi takes a glance over the food, but no quick solution exists to save this dish. He reaches the knob for the burner and turns it up all the way. There is a spoon on the counter and he quickly scoops some of the disgusting food out of the skillet and directly into the little fire under the coil.

"I make dinner all the time and it is just fine!" Flora declares, not about to let Clive tell her otherwise, "Isn't it Al?"

When she points to him he hides the spoon behind him. He is forced to nod very obediently.

"There is no way we are going to eat that!" Clive shouts at her, "We could get salmonella!"

"You will not! Go ahead and starve if you don't want to eat my food!" Flora screams back.

The smell of smoke starts to fill the room and brings a much more important matter to attention. Flora shrieks, discovering the fire engulfing the stove. Clive barks at everyone to get back and raises his arms like a barrier so that Flora is safe behind it. Though he is handling the situation well, there is a clear horror displayed on his haunted face. Alfendi is completely unafraid because he has already equipped himself with a fire extinguisher to handle this fiasco. He unleashes the thick white foam on the flames and the two people standing in front of it. Cries of protest escape them as they try to shield themselves, but he doesn't cease until the fire is completely put out. After the blasting, the two adults gape at him, too astonished to speak. He calmly reaches past them and turns the knob back to its rightful off setting.

Flora gapes at her apparel in dismay, no longer ready to go anywhere. "Oh dear! Not again!"

Clive is also very displeased as he tries to wipe the foam off of his sleeves, but to no avail. "Was that really necessary!?"

It probably wasn't, but seeing the two of them standing before him covered in the fluffy white goop makes his lip begin to quiver. He tries to hold back a giggle as he hugs the extinguisher to his chest, but then he falls to the ground in a fit of laughter.

"You guys should see yourselves! You look like a pair of snowmen!" He lets out a snort while he beats a fist on the ground at their ridiculous depiction.

"This isn't funny!" Flora cries out in distress, not at all happy to be mocked for looking so terrible. She dashes out of the room, not wasting one second that she no longer had left to spare.

With her gone, Alfendi is left with a humungous mess to clean up. He sighs and throws a towel for Clive to catch clumsily. Then he retrieves his spoon to scoop out a charred piece of chicken and a few olives. Clive's eyes widen when he throws it back into the pan.

"No way... You did this?" Clive gawks at him.

He takes the skillet and opens the lid of a trash can with no remorse and dumps the revolting contents. "Sometimes you have to do what you have to do."

Alfendi gets a towel as well and begins the tough clean up. Clive simply brings a hand to his hair in bewilderment, "I wouldn't have pegged you as an arsonist."

"I'm not!" Alfendi lashes out, "You're right, ok! She can't cook!"

This surprises him thoroughly, which Alfendi understands because he had pretended to support his sister by taking her side. Clive tilts his head in confusion at realizing he is actually aware of this fact. "Why can't you just tell her that you don't like her food?"

"It doesn't come up all that much... Usually I try to cook dinner before she gets home."

"That still doesn't answer my question. Why are you enabling her like this?"

He wishes he could, but he and his dad have kept this up for as long as he can remember. It was an unspoken rule to eat the food Flora provided. One could only hope for a fiery disaster that would spare them and on those days they would order a pizza instead. That was actually a more and more frequent occurrence thanks to Alfendi's meddling. He never dared to challenge this rule because he could understand the reasoning behind it perfectly.

"She's always so proud of the stuff she makes, no matter what it is," Alfendi explains to him, "You saw how sensitive she was about it! If I told her it would break her heart!"

Clive's disapproval is still very evident, "You realize this charade is ridiculous, right?" Alfendi nods, not able to argue that it wasn't.

The two of them wipe down the entire stove in silence, not wanting to talk about Flora and also ignoring their now rumbling stomachs. Permanent scorch marks from fires that Flora had caused all by herself have darkened the wallpaper in that area. That was there to stay because nothing could ever get that completely clean. The last thing left to do is to take the garbage out. Alfendi offers to take it so that Clive can go upstairs and change into something less... goopy.

He recklessly throws open his front door with the sack over his shoulder when he is met by unexpected company. The stranger's tan hand is an inch away from their doorbell, having been moments away from announcing his arrival.

"Ciao a voi," The exotic man runs a hand through his fantastic curly hair while also flaunting his perfectly sculpted arms as he leans into the door frame. "Is Flora here?" He requests with an accent that is difficult to understand.

Alfendi scowls at him, already suspecting what he is doing here. This has to be another boneheaded guy from work that is smitten with his sister. For some reason she could never just say no when one of these simpletons actually built up the nerve to ask her out.

Alfendi rolls his eyes, "Yeah yeah. She'll be done whenever." Alfendi lets his sack drop to the ground and crosses his arms stubbornly, wondering who he would have to deal with this time. "So... who are you anyway?"

The beautiful man practically purrs his own name. "Fernando."

* * *

_Short chapters aren't really happening. There's too much going on! Sorry the updates are taking forever. _

_I love love love getting to add to Clive's back story! So I imagine him learning classy sophisticated stuff with Constance, like conversational french. It's ironic too because we all know he hates snails. _

_What seems to be happening is I am going each day through everybody's point of view. I guess I will end the pattern with chapter six so Flora will be next. I can't do that this whole time or this story will never end. Its already going to be more than 18 chapters the way it's looking._


	6. Chapter 6

Flora grumbles under her breath as she gets ready a second time that night. As well as the fourth time today! With every painful stroke of her hairbrush she is certain that she is only creating more tangles. And none of this would have happened at all if _he_ weren't here.

The thick foam proves to be too challenging for her hairbrush to tackle. She sighs and quickly gives in to defeat. The only quick fix Flora can accomplish is to pull it all into a tight twist at the back of her head. To make up for the lack of luscious curls, she finds a pair of alluring gold earrings. As she puts them on, her eyes fall on the red roses in a slender emerald vase beside the mirror of her vanity. All of them from Fernando.

Every day this week he had come with these flowers, asking her to accompany him to the fashion show their company was holding tonight. Today she finally accepted his invitation, secretly thrilled to have him as her escort. She would be lying if she said she hadn't noticed him before this.

Fernando had joined their company this summer and he was quite an asset to them. He was one of the most talented individuals to join them in a long time. It was clear from the first day they were introduced that he had an interest in her and he was determined to get to know her. He would stop by her desk daily to chat with her about her day and ask her out to lunch. Sometimes more coworkers would come along, but recently it had just been them. There they would sit together and he would tell her many captivating stories.

He had grown up in Italy and the fashion industry had always been apart of his life. His father had been a tailor in small family owned shop back home. In his teenage years he had done modeling. Then he took those experiences and utilized it towards his own designing. Since then he had been all over the world. She could only hope she would also find that much success in her career.

She analyzes her closet and pulls out the first thing she sees, the simple solid red dress that is always particularly glamorous on her. However, it would be much too cold to wear it alone. A small black jacket and a conservative scarf over her shoulders to make her feel a little more comfortable. She takes her small purse, throws it over her shoulder, and hops into the hallway and a pair of tall black boots all at once. Though she is short on time she does spare just a moment to greet the professor, who must have returned home while she had been getting ready.

Flora kisses him ever so sweetly on the cheek and gives him a quick hug, "Goodbye. I have to run."

The man in the orange sweater and dark brown pants reacts very peculiarly. He stiffens under her embrace before he tries to push away from her. How odd. The professor usually chuckled and hugged her in return.

"Well, aren't you affectionate!" a voice other than her father's exclaims.

Flora covers her lips in shock as Clive wipes away her kiss with his palm in disgust. Completely horrified, she falls to her knees and clutches her stomach. Flora's cheeks dim to a sickly green color as she desperately fights the impulse to hurl.

"You can save the theatrics." Clive waves his hands in feigned terror at her reaction.

"Y-you're the one impersonating t-the professor!" She sputters, "Why would you startle me like that!?"

"I'm not trying to scare you!" He exhales in exasperation, "I'm trying to be decent remember?"

"So you steal my father's clothes?" She accuses.

"I don't have any other clothes!" He reminds her. "For your sake I decided I shouldn't be walking around in my undergarments! Unless you don't mind that." He jests crudely.

"No!" She shouts at once. Clive raises a smug eyebrow and she quickly corrects herself. "I mean yes I mind! Y-you are disgusting!"

"You're not so pleasant yourself," he counters, crossing his arms in contempt.

"You!" Words weren't nearly mean enough to convey her hatred and she did not speak in such an angry manner this frequently to know what could be the most offensive. All she can do is hug her arms tighter around her knees to keep from pulling her hair out in frustration. "Gah!"

He shakes his head with what can only be disapproval, "How are you even the same person ?"

"Shut up!" She snaps at him, "You don't know anything about me!"

"Fashion designing diva? No I think I got that."

She is on her feet at this insult, wishing she could slap him. She resists and stomps down the stairs furiously distancing herself from him. Clive waits until she gets a head start before following at a safe distance with his hands shoved into the borrowed pockets.

She thought this night couldn't be any more embarrassing. That is, until she reaches the bottom of the steps and she overhears a particularly alarming conversation taking place in the foyer.

"Yeah there was a Freddie and a Felipe..." She hears her brother rambling on to someone at the door, "Those are kind of close to your name, wouldn't you say? But you don't meet a lot of Fernandos... It's not something common like David, Charlie, or Geo-"

"Alfendi!" Flora calls urgently upon finding him harassing her coworker.

"-Oh! Hey Flora! I didn't hear you come down!" Her brother smiles nervously with a hand behind his neck.

'Is he really pretending he wasn't trying to sabotage another date for her?' Flora would never understand why he never liked anyone she brought home.

Fernando's eyes are a bit wide, but other than that he doesn't seem that startled. It's so hard to believe he had stayed after this first encounter with Alfendi. Hardly anyone did...

"Ah," He breathes in dreamlike admiration as he takes sight of her, "Flora my flower, you are bellissima."

Alfendi gags rudely beside Flora, then cries out obnoxiously at the sharp nudge she gives him. He rubs his arm through narrowed eyes, but shuts up with a pout.

She smiles shyly at the compliment, Thank you very much. Shall we be going?"

She says this much too quickly, hoping to leave as soon as possible. Fernando offers his arm in a polite, gentlemanly fashion, "We shall."

Flora bounds to him, but glances over her shoulder to give Alfendi a stern look. "Keep an eye on things here, ok?"

"Oh, we will be just fine," Clive suddenly appears from around the corner. He takes her place beside her brother in the doorway wearing an obnoxious grin, "You two have a wonderful night." He bids them.

Flora shrinks away from him and closer to Fernando's side, "I'm hoping we will." She turns to leave in a hurry down the driveway, but that doesn't keep her from glancing back with worry.

Clive has a hand on her brother's shoulder and he whispers something in his ear. This makes Alfendi snicker, but when he sees Flora looking at them he just waves and Clive does also, like he is not plotting something.

Flora suddenly realizes that she is leaving Alfendi behind with that awful man. She completely forgets her arm is linked with Fernando's and nearly jerks him right along with her. She loses her footing when he firmly plants his feet. She quickly holds tight to his arms to steady herself. He gazes down at her with concern and she sheepishly lets go of him.

"Did you forget something?" Fernando asks in surprise at her desperate desire to race back inside. She wishes to say yes, but hesitates. She doesn't want to end this date so rudely when it had only just begun.

Lucky for her, the laytonmobile comes down the road and parks at the curb. With her father home she could be certain that no harm would come to her brother if she leaves.

"...No. We can go," She says, practically skipping now to a sleek black car that must belong to him. Fernando gives her a confused look, but simply opens the door for her and allows her to step inside. Then he strides to the other side and takes a seat on the driver's side while she gives a quick wave to her father from behind the windshield to show him she would be leaving.

The two are silent. The only noise is the squeak of awkward shifting in their seat. Actually that was only from her fidgeting because she suddenly feels anxious for some reason. Now that she is here, she's not sure what to say.

"Umm. This is very nice," Flora offers shyly, tucking a small curl behind her ear, admiring the spotless interior and fresh scent of new automobile.

"Sí. This car cost quite a pretty penny." Fernando informs her.

"I've actually been saving up for a car myself."

"You have?" He asks with delight, "I did not think you could drive, dear."

"Well my father has been teaching me-" Flora starts nervously.

"You have not lived until you have driven in a car like this." He winks and tosses her the keys as he gets up to switch sides.

"Oh no no, I couldn't," Flora tries to dissuade him, but he takes her hands and leads her to the other side. "I'm not very good yet," she tells him.

"You will be fine."

The ride is anything but smooth and entirely nerve wracking. Flora struggles between accelerating too fast and braking too often, making her feel the need to apologize constantly. Fernando would laugh politely and offer some advice and instruction, but when she would try that it only made her more uncertain and even more anxious. Finally, he reaches a hand over to help her steer so that she can focus on the pedals. This helps immensely and she starts to get the hang of it. By the time they reach their destination she is almost doing well.

"That... wasn't so bad," Flora says in relief, letting her lips finally curl upwards.

Fernando is pleased that she enjoyed the drive. "See? You just had to relax." He says, placing a reassuring hand on her shoulder.

"That's not an easy thing for me. Not worrying," Flora admits nervously while reaching to twirl a strand of hair, but forgetting it isn't available, "I mean, I wish I could. It drives me crazy. It would be so nice to not have so much stress in my life. It's probably more stressful than my real driving!"

She giggles thoroughly at this, but Fernando simply nods at the statement.

'Oh goodness, I am babbling on again. No one wants to listen to that!' She awkwardly clears her throat, "Right then, we best be going. We wouldn't want to miss the show would we?"

"Of course not. I must see these lovely clothes designed by a Miss Flora Reinhold. They are certainly as beautiful as she," he smiles warmly, making her heart skip a beat... or two.

The two check in at the door and take their VIP seats beside a catwalk. There they sit side by side beside blaring speakers and watch the models show off everyone's hard work this season. All the different styles and interpretations of fashion were all so beautiful. And spending time with someone she is starting to feel comfortable with is all she could ask for. Though it would be nice if they could converse with one another tonight.

"Did you happen to submit any designs for that designing head position they have open?" She shouts over the funky beats of boisterous music.

"The one to replace Rocco Stile?" He hollers back, "No I did not."

"Really, but why? I'm sure you would be great!" Though she believes the statement, Flora certainly is relieved. If she isn't competing against him maybe this would give her a better chance.

"I do not doubt that. I am sure I am well qualified," he shouts, "But I have just settled here. I would like to stay in London a while."

"What did you say?" She asks, believing she has misheard him somehow, "It sounds like you said the person who gets that job would leave London?"

"Yes. Whoever is chosen will be working for the headquarters of the company. That is in Paris."

"What! No way! Are you joshing me?" Flora gasps in shock.

"You did not know? I assure you I am not... joshing you." He says uncertainly, not seeming to be familiar with her choice of words.

She couldn't believe it, 'Paris! If I get this job I could go to Paris?'

"Is it not a dream come true?"

"It is! That would be so amazing! " This could be an adventure of her own. This was the break she had wanted for so long!

Just then, she receives the tightest of hugs from someone behind her seat. It is a bit difficult to fill her lungs and all the while they are squealing excitedly in her ear. "Oh my goodness! How could you not tell me! When did you two finally start dating!?"

She turns around to return the hug with an endearing laugh. "Pretty much tonight, Velvet," Flora informs her cubicle neighbor and closest friend from work.

"I knew it was only a matter of time," Velvet's husband Jean announces, "Everyone in the office was taking bets you know, on whether you would accept."

"Hey don't tease them!" Velvet warns him, "Well I think you two are so perfect together!" Flora tries to laugh off all these comments, but her cheeks redden despite that.

"Flora, they've called your name!" Fernando points to the runway. "Look quickly!"

Walking across the stage is a model in a dress that Flora had designed. It happened to be one of her best. The golden lace sleeves shine over the woman's slender arms. Delicate, glimmering teardrop gems are arranged in the pattern of petals of a flower across the neckline above a gold and white floral pattern for the torso and skirt that extends to the knees. Just as soon as she walked out she is now walking back and the next design is now in the spotlight. But those few seconds could not have been any more magical for her.

"Well done. I think that's the best one I've seen." Jean compliments her.

"No doubt honey. It's glamorous and yet it could still be casual. Perfect for any summertime event. Very well done," Velvet praises her, "I'm so proud of you!"

Flora bows her head humbly, "Thank you! You are too kind!"

"That was an amazing dress," Fernando adds, "Più che bella."

"Speak English buddy," Jean requests.

"More than beautiful," he translates, making her guarded heart melt.

The rest of the evening passes in a wonderful blur. All too soon they are on her street and she is nearly home. The car ride had been quiet again, but that is because she had drifted off after all the excitement.

"Here you are," Fernando whispers, "Your home sweet home."

"I would like to introduce you to my father," Flora mentions excitedly. But then she suddenly notices that the laytonmobile is missing from the curb. Her stomach drops like a stone with disappointment at his unexpected absence, "But well... I suppose you've had enough of my family for one day," Flora tries to laugh it off.

"Your brothers. They like to tease you, sí?"

"Alfendi is my brother," she corrects him. "The one with the red hair-"

"-Ah yes, the one who mentioned your many other lovers?"

"He was kidding!" Flora assures him. "I haven't dated that many men!" If her words aren't enough, the expression she wears on her face clearly communicates her embarrassment.

While the number of first dates hadn't been few, she still didn't go out often. She had to at least try, she wouldn't want to end up all alone someday and not have anyone to share her life with. But she certainly wasn't dating more than one person at once like he is suggesting.

"It does not matter to me." Fernando tells her heroically, "If I had to fight off a thousand other suitors for your affection, that is what I would do."

"Oh. Ahem," Flora can feel her cheeks get pinker as she coughs into her fist. "That's-"

Fernando raises an eyebrow, clearly bewildered, "Do you doubt me?"

"Oh. Well uh I-" her nervous stammers are cut off completely when his fingers gently graze under her chin. His face is just inches from hers, but he simply holds her gaze for what feels like eternity.

"Someone has broken your trust..." Fernando states confident in his analysis, "I can see it in your eyes."

Flora's pulls her gaze away fearfully. If only she could deny the accuracy of the statement. "It's not important. That was a long time ago."

"But it affects the way you love today," He insists. "You are refusing it."

"I've just learned that not everyone is who they say they are... "She sighs. Her eyelids close instinctively, trying to hold back hurt from the past. "I don't want to be wrong again."

"Tell me this. Does someone pursuing your love for so long... Do they not even deserve a chance?" He wonders.

Flora gazes back at him, his face still only inches away. In his hand he has somehow magically produced another rose that had probably been hidden in his car somewhere. But this time, it is white like the feather of an angel's wing. He rests it beneath his chin and she can't even stand that sad gleam reflecting in his brown pleading eyes.

"Yes, you do," Flora places a hand on his cheek and a small kiss on his lips. A kiss that he has been waiting so long for. For once, she had found someone she was willing to take a chance on.

"Goodnight, my flower." Fernando wishes he as she exits his vehicle.

"Goodnight, Fernando," Flora says shyly. He sits in his car, waiting until she has entered her home safely. She walks backwards to her door admiring the flower in her hands, but on the way bumps into the post of the porch. She giggles, not even caring about her silly little blunders anymore.

Her home is completely dark when she enters except for the trail of light coming from the television is able to lead her to the living room. There she stumbles upon two boys fast asleep on the couch. Clive rests sitting up on the very end with his head fallen forward. Alfendi lies on his back, taking two cushions for himself. Rising and falling atop his chest is a flat and greasy cardboard box.

'That boy and his pizza...' Flora stiffles a giggle and kneels beside her brother to gently shake him awake. "Alfendi."

At first he doesn't stir in the slightest. He must be in a deep slumber because he is snoring softly. But finally he stretches his long arms and legs and brings his hands to his eyes to wipe the weariness from them. "Hmm?"

"What are you still doing down here Al?"

"Flora!" He exclaims, immediately full of energy, "You totally missed it! Clive and I watched movies, and he let me pick pizza toppings on the phone!"

"Did he now?" Flora acknowledges intently, "And who paid for it? Where is dad at?"

"Dean Delmona called him a while ago. He said it wouldn't take too long. He should be back soon."

Flora nearly chokes on the fright this gives her, "He left you here alone!?"

Alfendi shrugs, not seeing why this would be a problem. He holds out the box generously. "Do you want a piece? It's pepperoni and pineapple."

"Maybe tomorrow... Let me get this put into the refrigerator." She ruffles his hair affectionately, "You get to bed."

"You heard her. Move over kid." Clive says, suddenly informing them that he was indeed awake. He pushes Alfendi off the cushions to make room for himself to sleep. Alfendi lets out a cry of protest, but then flops to the carpet in a heap of giggles.

Flora glowers at Clive with immense disapproval. "It seems you didn't think he needed to go to bed tonight! He has school tomorrow!"

"Please." Clive rolls his eyes, "He was out by 9:30."

"Was not!" Alfendi argues childishly, "You're no witness you fell asleep too! You have no proof!"

"Go to bed, Alfendi." Flora asserts, "You've been up late enough."

Alfendi frowns, but he must have been too tired to argue tonight because he goes willingly. While he climbs up the stairs at a sluggish pace, Flora glares at Clive and taps her foot in annoyance.

Clive leans back into the couch indifferently, "What's the problem now?"

"You are." Flora tells him, "You need to leave."

"I believe you allowed me six days." He reminds her.

"Not anymore," she growls.

"Oh. Is that how it is?" He laughs, but takes no action. "Going back on your word I see."

"Save it, Future Luke," Flora practically spits, not needing any commentary from him about betrayal.

"I suppose you've got me there," He brings a hand to his chin, not seeming to understand the part about her wanting him to be gone.

"What are you waiting for!?" She demands impatiently.

"Is this really about a bedtime? If so you should have given me proper instruction before you left."

"I don't want you around him," Flora declares.

"Why?" Clive asks, still not seeming to understand, "Are you jealous?"

"Jealous! Of you!? Are you joking! That is absolutely preposterous!" She denounces immediately.

He doesn't seem to believe her, "Isn't it funny how you waited until the kid left before you tried to kick me out?"

"I want you to stay away from my brother! You are a bad influence on him! You're using him so that you can live here. You will never stop manipulating people!"

"Is that what you think?" Clive demands in disbelief. When she offers no response to this, he stands and steps into the only pair of shoes he owned and takes his old clothes that he wads up in his fist. He also takes the pizza box on the couch which she doesn't actually mind him having. On his way to the door however, he stops. His back still faces her as he gives her some parting words.

"I never asked for your help I would like to remind you. And frankly, it isn't worth it. I don't have to take any of this verbal abuse from you."

Flora crosses her arms defensively, "It isn't like you didn't deserve it. After all the misery you caused it's finally coming back to you."

He slams the door so loudly when he departs that she jumps. The deafening quiet that follows seems to fill her house with peace for once. She goes to her room to work on some designs while she waited for the professor to return. Now and then she tentatively peeks through the blinds over her window, but Clive is nowhere in sight.

'This is really it. He's never coming back.'

* * *

_Flora is one of my favorite characters ever. I really love her, I so wish she had done more in the games. __It may seem out of character, but there is evidence that proves she can get really really mad. (Such as in unwound future when Layton and Luke were time travelling and left her behind, she was using all caps in her dialouge.) But other than that, most of the time she forgives easily and is happy and loving and sweet. The betrayal from Clive and the trauma of being kidnapped is the only thing I can think of that would override that._

_A lot of OC's introduced, hope you don't mind that. So Fernando's name kind of came from Flora's, but it sounds masculine and suave and dreamy. I really hope I am translating things well. It's kind of implied that Fernando's first language wasn't english so I hope he sounds alright and I'm not offending anyone. Also, Flora's name is derived from the latin word flos which literally means flower, so that's why this is her little nickname. I really kind of love this character, I'm not exactly sure what I will do with him just yet, but he does serve a key roll in this story. __And Flora is still shy but she probably has friends at work, so that would be Jean and Velvet. Punny because it's fabric and clothes. (can't write a love story without coworkers and/or family interfering and being annoying xD)_


	7. Chapter 7

The world behind the glass beckoned to him in a way homework couldn't. Alfendi slumps over his assignments on the desk, still staring outside the window with longing. The house is so serene and quiet now that Clive left. It was boring is what it was. Now he has no one to hang out with that would actually let him have fun.

His sister enters his room very quietly and out of the corner of his eye he watches her pick up his carelessly discarded laundry and collect it into a large hamper. When she comes towards him he averts his gaze.

"Need any help?" Flora asks gently, leaning over his shoulder to observe the math problems.

He shakes his head and responds curtly. "No I don't."

She dips her head, but still has the audacity to ask, "Are you sure?"

His hands smacks down flat on his papers in annoyance, "Yes Flora! Fractions are beyond simple! I know how to do this!"

She backs away, not with fear but in shame. They both knew this wasn't what he was actually mad about.

"Yes you always were good at math," Flora acknowledges, reluctantly, "Just... don't procrastinate too long," she warns him before turning to make her exit. He sighs, knowing that if he lets her go like this he will only feel bad later.

"Aren't you going to tell me how your day was at work?" Alfendi asks, though it is beyond mundane.

"Oh." Flora rests her hand on his doorknob. "It was..." But she trails off, uncertain of what she wants to say.

"I just asked how work was," Alfendi grumbles under his breath.

"Oh, it was fine," Flora says at once. She quickly brushes her hair back behind her ear, "I actually applied for this new role in the company..."

Alfendi brings a hand to his chin curiously. "When was this? You haven't mentioned that at all."

"Well I didn't want to say anything if it didn't work out," Flora tells him, which is logical reasoning.

"You're mentioning it now." Alfendi quickly catches, "So it must have right?"

"I'm one of the few they are considering," she admits.

"Wow Flora!" Alfendi exclaims proudly, forgetting his present rancor and bounding straight to her side. He leans on the basket excitedly almost tipping all the clothes right back on the ground in his excitement. "That's great news!"

"It would be, but I think I should turn it down." She sighs in forlorn.

"Huh?"

"Excuse me," she says, suddenly wanting to let herself out and go downstairs, but he forcefully slams his door, "Hey! Al-"

"-What do you mean you aren't going to take it? Why wouldn't you?" Alfendi demands of her, "You aren't making sense. What apply for a job if you have no intentions of actually having it?"

She breathes once before patiently requesting, "Alfendi get out of the way."

"No!"

The siblings become deathly silent. His sister is not at all pleased to be spoken to so rudely, while he fumes with anger waiting for a real explanation.

"I'm having second thoughts," she admits sharply.

"Second thoughts!? Why!?" Alfendi asks incredulously. "You would be brilliant! I know you would!"

"The job isn't here. I would have to move... I don't think I'm ready for that," she confides fearfully.

"Sure you are!" Alfendi tries to encourage her, but she shakes her head in disagreement. "But Flor-"

"Al! I wouldn't be around the block or the other side of the city. I wouldn't even be in the same country! It's in Paris!" she declares frightfully, "I don't know anything about their culture! I can't just show up there all by myself and not speak the language! That would be crazy!"

"You have to! You worked so hard for this!" Alfendi reminds her.

"It's fine." Flora insists, "Another opportunity will come around eventually."

"That could be a really long time" Alfendi argues. "Like years! What if it doesn't? If you turn this down they may never ask you again!"

She ruffles a hand in his hair in reassurance, "That's for me to worry about."

He pulls away from her touch with disgust. This congratulations should not be so short lived. Why is she doing this? It is obvious that she really wants to go despite her words. Is this supposed to be some brave sacrifice? He could not let her make such a big mistake.

Then it hit him. "Wait. You don't want to go because you don't speak French? That's the only reason right?"

"That's the gist yes," The look in his eyes makes her sigh in concerned exasperation, "Alfendi, please don't bother yourself with this."

"Can you think about it? Don't say no yet." He pleads, "Promise?"

"I'm already sure I will. Try to get that homework done before dinner, ok?" She shuts his bedroom door, so that he would have an easier time studying.

Instead, he is at his window pushing on the stiff frame with all his might. It screeches against the walls from disuse, but he finally gets it up high enough to climb out onto the roof. He precariously attempts to scale down the side of his house by placing his feet on the top ledge of a window below. When he tries to climb farther down he suddenly slips. His legs to collapse beneath him as they collide into the earth. He rolls over himself a few times before coming to a dizzying stop.

"Ah. Owwwww," He whimpers painfully under his breath.

It is rather difficult to breathe after the impact. Hesitantly, he lifts his limbs one by one, and to his delight he hasn't broken any bones. Adrenaline flows through his system, making him forget pain altogether as he mounts his yellow bike and furiously pedals down the sidewalk.

Alfendi knows he has to make it back before Flora finished the laundry and realized he had made a break for it. He diligently scours the streets, checking every shelter, alley, and gutter. He makes a stop into a book store too. His time in the last destination took the longest, but his purchase is essential.

He continues his search until the sun is setting in the horizon and he soon knows there isn't any time left to find him. A knot in his stomach begins to form and he fears he had already been out too late. Flora would find out any minute now. The trouble awaiting him would be severe. There is one way he could take if he wanted to make it back in time. He supposes this is his last resort if he wants to have any chance of avoiding a punishment for sneaking out. He pedals his bike towards a particular place he usually tried to avoid. It is actually a very nice street in a good part of town. It has a nice playground and an ice cream stand, making it a very popular place for kids his age. He keeps pedaling hoping that he will get through here unscathed.

The hope is in vain, for at the end of the street his bike is suddenly immobilized when something becomes caught in his tire. It sends Alfendi flying over the front of his bike. His skin scrapes against the sidewalk as he falls directly onto his nose. He cries out in pain, fearing he may have broken it. Blood dribbles down onto his lips, and when he tries to wipe it away it smears everywhere. His sensitive nose throbs painfully as he tries to hold it with his hand because he has no sleeve that can reach it. He quickly sits up and examines his bike to find a thick broken branch jammed in between the spokes.

He narrows his eyes suspiciously, 'This was no accident.' Alfendi concludes immediately. In the bush beside him he hears snickering and finds the end of the broken twig in the hands of a pudgy, round in the face boy: Charlie. He is in Alfendi's class and happens to be one of the stupidest cowards he has ever met.

Alfendi grabs the end of the branch and yanks it right out of his hand, almost pulling the kid all the way through the bush.

"Hey! What's the big idea!" Charlie complains, trying to pull himself free. He struggles because he has his jacket caught on the shrubbery and he is much to big to have been hiding in there in the first place.

"You. Broke. My. Bike." Alfendi seethes.

"You aren't supposed to be here, Alnerdi!" George, another bully from his school, gripes from behind him. He turns to two more chubby boys with melting ice cream cones in hand: Charlie's pathetic friends.

"We never said you could be here. You're not cool!"

"There is no reason I can't! Your stupid rule merits no authority!" Alfendi declares.

"Yeah it does," David chimes in, and with that he roughly shoves Alfendi to the ground.

He tries not to cry out, being in so much pain at the moment, but a grunt does escape him.

"Why don't you go home and study you geeky nerd!"

"Yeah!"

"Hey what's this?" Asks George as he rifles through his shopping bag that had fallen from his handlebar, "Why do you have a French book? Wow you really are a nerd."

"You're all just jealous!" Alfendi screams back, flipping his hair out of his eyes. "If you even bothered to do your homework maybe you could be halfway intelligent. You fat, lazy pigs!" He knows a beating is inevitably going to follow, but he could never pass up the opportunity to voice his own opinions.

David's foot goes to kick him in the stomach, but he stands up and receives a very painful blow to his leg instead that nearly unbalances him again. He throws a punch right at George, but Charlie grabs a handful of his sleeve and pulls him away by mere inches. Alfendi quickly turns around, still receiving punches from the other two, but he finally connects his fist right into Charlie's face right below the eye. Alfendi shouts in triumph as he eliminates one opponent from this unfair battle. This only makes the other two more furious and they tackle him to the ground, pummeling the back of his ribs.

"Break it up!" A man's voice barks. He takes two strong hands and rips the two kids off of Alfendi. Charlie screeches in terror and takes off running down the street.

Alfendi actually wouldn't blame him for running. The stranger is rather intimidating with his menacing frown. Dirt and grime covers him head to toe. He is nearly unrecognizable, except for the familiar brown pants.

"Scram you spoiled brats!" He scolds them. George and David soon run after Charlie, screaming like girls the entire way, much to his amusement.

The man shoves his hands into his pockets calmly, "The only thing a bully understands is force."

"Clive!" Alfendi shouts, completely overjoyed to see him. "What are you doing here?"

"I was saving your hide! " Clive snaps at him.

"Hey!" Alfendi denounces immediately, "I was winning that fight!"

"And you have the battle wounds to prove it." Clive shakes his head with incredulity. He reaches into his pocket and hands Alfendi his old blue tie. "Here, try to clean up a little bit."

"Thanks Clive," Alfendi says earnestly, but he sounds funny with his nose pinched in the cloth.

A bus pulls away from a bus stop, causing Clive to grumble another curse under his breath. "Well, it looks like I just wasted what little change I had because of you." He sighs bitterly, at having lost his transportation. On top of that misfortune, his stomach rumbles very audibly.

"I'll make it up to you!" Alfendi promises, pointing to the stand across the street.

Alfendi goes up to the stand and buys two grilled cheese sandwiches for Clive's dinner. He also gets a frozen treat to use as a makeshift ice pack on his various sore injuries from today. Clive waits at a picnic table and when the food arrives the starving ex-criminal rips the paper bag right from his hand.

Alfendi can hardly believe how much skinnier he is since he last saw him. His hair is unkempt and he hasn't said anything, but he smelled awful.

"So... How have you been?" Alfendi asks his friend, already observing that it hasn't been good.

Clive gives him a looks tof disbelief. It is clear that life has not been treating him well, but when he sees that he honestly does want an answer he just sort of mumbles, "Well... I have a job working the graveyard shift at a factory, " he pauses to take a bite of bread and cheese, "I haven't had a paycheck yet. When I'm not working I try to collect change to ride the bus, and there I try to catch up on some sleep."

"That's really rough..." Alfendi sympathizes. Clive drops his gaze back to the sandwich and finishes off the last bite of his meal. He does not acknowledge the sympathetic words one way or the other.

He gets up from the bench, sighs hopelessly, and takes a few steps over to the nearby water fountains to take a quick drink of some life sustaining water. He cups some in his hands to try to wash his face.

A toddler runs up to the shorter fountain beside him, climbing onto the stool with her hands before her feet. On the side of the fountain is a knob to release the stream of water, but it's a stretch for her to reach it. Right as she leans forward on her tippy toes she lets go of the knob and misses the water by a second. The first time surprises, confuses, and frustrates her all at once, but she is patient and determined to get it. She repeats the process again and again, trying to time it just right so that she may catch a gulp, but to no avail. Alfendi giggles from where he sits and after about the seventh time he decides someone ought to help her.

Right as he stands up, Clive reaches over to hold the knob and the little girl gasps excitedly and leans her face into the water fearing she would miss it again. Clive waits as she drinks nearly a gallon of water before she wipes off her mouth with her little hands.

"Ta!" She says to Clive with a grateful little squeak. She takes off to play again at the park, trips once on the way, but dusts off her ivy dress and keeps on running.

A genuine smile appears on his face, and he tries to suppress a laugh at her. Even Alfendi has to admit she is really adorable. He joins Clive and washes up his face from some dried blood that is still flaking under his nose. He really ponders this recent occurrence with that little girl because a real criminal doesn't possess that kind of gentleness.

Much too soon, Clive shoves his hands into his pockets, believing this is a farewell. "It was nice to see you again. So long kid."

"Wait you can't go!" Alfendi begs him, "You have to come back home!"

"That's not going to happen," he tells him before turning away to the street.

He grabs onto his dirty sleeve, not about to let him go, "Please Clive! I need a favor from you. Flora-"

He scoffs very rudely, "I don't want to hear it."

"She needs your help!" Alfendi insists desperately. He quickly takes his paper bag, ready to show him the book he bought and explain everything.

"Do you think I care!?" Clive barks harshly, "She got exactly what she wanted! I'm gone. It's too late for her to change her mind." He roughly pulls his arm out of his grasp, and starts walking away.

"Get back here!" Alfendi clenches his fists in rage as he chases after him. Then he stubbornly wraps around his leg to keep him from moving any further.

"Would you let go!" He complains as he tries to kick free.

"I am not going home unless you come!" Alfendi threatens.

"That is so persuasive." Clive mocks sarcastically.

"How can I! Do you have any idea the trouble I went through to find you?" Alfendi tells him, "We aren't but three measly blocks away! "

"I'm not going!" Clive snaps at him.

Alfendi stands again, looks him dead in the eye, and points at him dramatically in accusation. "You're such a coward! I can't believe you're actually afraid of Flora."

Clive denies the statement immediately, "I am not afraid of her!"

"Prove it!" Alfendi challenges him.

"I don't have to! We don't get along, ok? That won't change!" Now that he doesn't have a kid clinging to him he takes off at a more furious pace than ever.

"She really did need your help!" He shouts after him bitterly, "Fine! Go! See if I care!"

He runs in the opposite direction back to his bike and kicks the stupid thing in his rage. Pitifully, he picks it up and starts dragging the heavy, useless hunk of metal by the frame because his bent tire no longer rolls. He grunts at the struggle it is to pull it along. Suddenly, the bike is lifted into the air right out of his hands.

"Give me that!" Clive scolds him with an impatient snarl, "You are a real pain, do you know that?"

Alfendi tries not to smirk. "Yup. I know."

Little conversation follows after this because Clive is still very irritated with him. Clive carries his bike all the way back to his house, but once there he dumps his precious bike into the grass.

"This is as far as I go!" This time he truly meant it too.

"Could you wait here then?" Alfendi asks, pausing at the door to be sure he won't leave. "I'm going to get Flora. Do you promise not to leave?"

"Yeah, yeah whatever," He mutters, not sounding convincing at all. Alfendi nods once hoping he could trust him to stay, for his sake at the very least.

He runs inside, determined to get her and straighten everything out, but when the door shuts behind him and the house is engulfed in a still and eerie silence. Something in the air immediately feels wrong. Alfendi calls out to Flora once only to hear her name echo in response.

"Oh no. No, no this can't be good," He mutters to himself.

His urgency to find her has him shouting through the house, because he knows what must have happened. In his room he finds her clutching onto the end of his bedspread with one shaking hand and the other is clutching at her heart. Her breathing is ragged and her face is buried into the fabric as she sobs uncontrollably. To anyone not familiar with this occurrence, the cries sound more like she is dying.

"Flora!" He runs straight to her, placing two firm hands on her shoulders, "Flora! snap out of it!"

"Al," she whispers through the sobs before immediately panicking again, "I can't breathe!"

"Yes you can. You're ok! I'm right here," he promises, pulling his trembling sister into his arms.

She clutches to him and only seems to cry harder into his chest, murmuring over and over, "I'm sorry. I'm sorry. Don't leave."

The guilt he felt inside was like no other. "No don't apologize. This is my stupid fault."

"I couldn't find you anywhere! Your window. I thought something horrible-" She glances up at him and gasps, "Alfendi! Your face! Something did happen!"

"No I'm ok!" He assures her at once, "I went out. I went to the bookstore and-and I fell off my bike!" He leaves out falling off the house, the bullies, and Clive. She really does not need to know about that right now. He just needs to make sure she is ok.

She finally pulls away after a while, finally calming down after he assured her he is fine. She runs a very stressed hand through her hair and wipes the tears that hadn't stopped falling yet. She chokes again, but she is at least able to take deeper breaths.

"Are you better?"

She nods, "I think I'm going to lie down. I feel dreadful."

"Are you sure you are going to be ok?" Alfendi asks. He has to support her as she attempts to stand up.

She is a bit wobbly, but she nods again, "I can do it." To show him she is alright she lets go of him and he waits there as she walks to her own room next door.

He clasps a hand to his hair in relief, but is filled with dread as he wonders what he would have to tell Clive now. Would he mind waiting just a little longer until she could take a nap and rest off this nightmare?

From the hallway, Flora lets out the shrillest of screams. Alfendi jumps to his feet and then there is thud which can only mean she has fainted, yet again.

"But... I thought she said!" He groans and goes out to the hallway supposing he would have to try and drag her the rest of the way to her bed. But then, he soon discovers the cause of this lapse and is frozen in place.

"Alfendi!" Clive stands on the steps with his arms crossed firmly across his chest. He is barely in sight from this angle, which probably frightened Flora more than it did him. Alfendi gulps as Clive demands to know, "What just happened?"

"You made her faint! That's what!" He says pointing to his limp sister on the ground as he tries to deter the blame away from him.

It doesn't even slightly distract him from the problem at hand. "I saw everything!" Clive harshly informs him.

He gapes at him in shock, "Y-you did?"

He nods and Alfendi knows that it is no use. "I didn't tell her that I left... I thought I could make it back before she noticed."

"You know that's not what I mean! What's wrong with Flora?"

Alfendi squints his eyes in confusion. "I already told you. I snuck out and she got scared."

"That isn't normal!" Clive shouts at him.

"I know that! It only happens sometimes!" Alfendi responds, completely dense. "...It's usually not this bad."

"She wasn't just scared Alfendi," Clive scolds him, "You gave her a panic attack! I almost called an ambulance."

"A what!" Alfend's face pales drastically at the serious sounding term.

"You don't know what that is?" He criticizes. Alfendi shakes his head vigorously, never having heard the term in his life. Clive brings a hand to the back of his neck with a frustrated sigh.

"I swear I don't! It can't be that!"

"I believe you," Clive assures him calmly, "Do you have any idea what triggers it? What makes her scared?"

"It usually happens when dad leaves on a trip. She just gets all worried when dad and I are gone," Alfendi tells him. "Other than that she's perfectly happy!"

"Happy, huh?" He seems doubtful, but doesn't say anything more on the subject. He scoops his arms under her shoulders and pulls her up to a sitting position so that they may carry her somewhere other than here. Her heavy head falls back onto his chest making him shudder in disgust. "Ugh. Get her feet would you?"

They take her to the couch downstairs and prop her up with pillows. Alfendi waits by her side while Clive paces the floor still debating whether to call someone. Alfendi desperately hopes Clive is wrong. This cannot be something so serious. It happened all the time and Flora was always ok. Why would this time be different? It never occurred to him that Flora could be really ill.

"Please wake up," Alfendi whimpers, almost worried that she would not.

* * *

_Goodness that got so intense at the end. Obviously there is a lot more going on with Flora than she is letting on. She is under a tremendous amount of stress right now, poor thing. Might already have guessed what it could be, it's a popular theory, but I am not going to reveal what it is quite yet._

_Alfendi is a wild child and I love it. At the same time thought I think he does have some traits of Placid that he doesn't normally show. I think that when the split personality happened it just created two extreme and completely separate aspects of his character. That's what I think anyway because it doesn't really make sense for it to come from nowhere. Also, did anyone notice how these two situations with Flora were extremely similar to how Alfendi deals with Lucy?_

_Speaking of Lucy, do you know what I realized and had to include? At the time this story takes place Lucy would be just a little baby! I don't know what she would have been doing away from Yorkshire that day, but who is to say she can't visit London with her family? That scene was also super important because it brought out a bit more of Alfendi's placid side and it also showed that Clive is not heartless either._


	8. Chapter 8

'This isn't the only time this has happened then...'

Clive does not want to think about the labyrinth of the Towering Pagoda. That is the last time he ever wants to think about, but that is where his mind ultimately is because that is the first time he ever saw Flora like this.

After the group split up he acted as her escort and guide through his own maze. Even with a general idea of the layout he became confused in the pitch black which caused him to eventually lead them into a dead end very close to the exit. Though he did not know their exact location he knew that if he were to backtrack he would find a familiar point and could work from there.

As he processed how to discover their exact location Flora clung to him frightfully. It would have been impossible for him to loose her in the darkness because her delicate, dainty hand was cutting off the all the circulation in his. What was worse is that he knew she was crying. It was impossible to ignore. Her sniffles echoed in the corridors as she trembled like a kitten in the rain. He tightly gripped her hand as if to assure her there was nothing to fear, but the longer they were there the worse she became. He had been about to stop and request to switch hands to give the other a chance to let the blood flow, but that is when she suddenly collapsed.

"Flora? Flora!" He said in alarm. "Are you quite alright?"

He knelt down beside her in an attempt to help her, but the way she shook made it known to him this was more than fear. It was pure terror. She could hardly speak through her wretched sobs and it was clear she would no longer go on until she overcame this.

"Flora, look at me," He said, trying to bring her back to him, "What is wrong?"

"The professor... And Luke," Flora chokes on the words, "What if none of us find our way out! They could already have been captured! What if I never see them again!?"

Her questions were tough to answer because he already knew the danger she thought they were in was fabricated. He could not have simply told her this without revealing the entire ruse, yet he had genuinely wished to.

He took her hand for some reason. He supposed that was a way of consoling her. Then he said to her very confidently, "The professor and Luke are alright."

"Don't lie to me!" she criticized him, "You don't know!"

"You seem to be forgetting that I am from the future," he reminded her with a tone of warmness. He placed one hand on top of the one he was already holding in reassurance. "As long as I am here, then you'll know they are safe."

Though he could not see her face, he felt as if she was looking up at him because her cries had ceased. Flora lifted othe hand he wasn't holding to wipe her face. It wasn't long before her breathing was no longer gasping. With much relief, he ventured to ask if she felt better and a small noise that sounded like a confirmation was returned. Then, Clive would not have been able to mask his shock if not for the darkness, but she threw her arms around him with gratitude.

"Thank you, Luke," she whispered, "You're a good friend."

He let the girl rest her head on his shoulder, and the tears penetrate the thick cloth of his navy jacket. Her soft ponytail and silky ribbon brushed lightly under his chin and he felt an unbearable guilt for deceiving her like this. It made him want to push away from this embrace in repulsion, yet he could not bring himself to do so because as a friend it was his duty to awkwardly hug her in return. He honestly had no choice in the matter.

When she pulled away she took his hand again and was excited to leave so that they could find the others. He quickly navigated her through the tunnels and into the light of day where they could see once again. However, they walked to the Thames Arms having completely forgotten that they could release the other's hand.

Back in the present, he knew this idle pacing would not help anything. He couldn't keep waiting for something to happen. Flora needed help, she wasn't ok then and she isn't ok now.

Suddenly, Alfendi leans over his sister, suggesting a change in her unconscious state, "Flora?"

Flora turns her head with a wince. Her long lashes flutter like timid butterfly wings as she returns to the world of the awake. Her hand reaches slowly to her head with a painful moan. Whether it was an internal headache from immense stress or an external pain that had come after the collapse onto the floor he was uncertain. She glances up and lets out a startled scream when she finds Alfendi hovering over her. She whips a pillow at his face causing him to fall back on his bum.

"Hey!" Alfendi shakes his head and quickly retaliates by throwing the pillow back at his sister.

Clive struggles to suppress his laughter at their amusing squabble. It would seem they would both be all right after all. Once she recovers from the fright, Flora closes her eyes and turns to her side to resume her nap. Her brother doesn't leave her side and she gripes a complaint to him with her face buried in a cushion. "Stop it! You're breathing on me! Would you let me sleep!"

"You fainted again." Alfendi informs her matter-of-factly. Flora sits upright at once to discover she is not where she had thought she was. Her eyes squint in confusion at finding herself on the couch instead of in her bed.

"How did I-" Words fail her completely when her eyes lock on him. He stands in the center of the room because that is where he has stopped his pacing. He does not know what to do at being shined in the spotlight like this. Should he look away? explain himself? All he is able to do is stare at her with too much concern and the look of fright in her eyes pains him with every silent second that ticks by.

She acts as if his presence is the most horrible punishment that could be inflicted upon her. Flora dips her head, and a tear falls onto the pillow on her lap before she buries her face into it in shame and begins to sob. This reaction is one he wished he wasn't capable of causing, but that is what monsters are the best at: making others miserable.

"No no no no," she wails softly into the fabric of the pillow, "Why are _you_ here!"

"I was just leaving," he says quickly, pointing to the front door.

"Clive wait!" Alfendi intercedes.

"I have had just about enough of you!" He scolds the persistent boy, "I only came so that you would go home! I am not-"

Alfendi points to him in accusation, "Clive knows French!"

Flora lifts her head up, looking to Clive, but he is as shocked as she is. The statement has him completely baffled.

Flora is suddenly on her feet in fury. "No Alfendi! I don't know what he told you, but he doesn't know French!"

"Yes he does!" Alfendi insists earnestly.

"Al! Don't you see?" She almost pleads, trying to persuade him to trust her reasoning, "It's all a lie! It always is with him!" She points him out rudely for a second time.

He does not have any idea what comes over him, but Clive's aggravation gets the best of him. He responds to this in the language that she claims he doesn't know. "_Cesserez-vous jamais me doubter_!?"

All the doubt she has in Alfendi's claim evaporates as the siblings stare at him, completely stunned by the outburst. Alfendi finally pipes up and points to him a third time, "I told you!"

"I-uh." She clears her throat, having been mistaken in her accusation. "I see."

"_Vous voyez enfin_," Clive mutters this bitterly under his breath. For once, she cold finally see not everything he said was a lie. He hadn't been able to think of a way to convince her until now.

"Does that mean you'll do it?" Alfendi wonders, "You could teach her, right Clive?"

Clive takes a step back, "Who said I was a teacher of any sort!?" That was not at all something he was willing to do.

"You have to!" Alfendi argues. "Flora needs to learn so she can move to Paris!"

"I don't have to do anything! I don't want anything to do with her!" He says, pointing an accusing finger at Flora.

She crosses her arms in protest as well. Of course she is not willing to have him for a teacher, this boy is crazy for believing that she would ever listen to him! Him a teacher, he has never heard anything more absurd!

"Well, I would like to say it has been a pleasure, but of course I would be lying now wouldn't I?" Clive says purposely glaring at the Flora who simply shuts her eyes and huffs in irritation. "I won't be seeing you, he says as he turns to the door, avoiding Alfendi's eyes as he says this.

The boy steps out in front of him, blocking his path to the foyer, "I didn't go to this much trouble to have you say no!" Alfendi rages.

The boy is outnumbered and outvoted. He may want him here, but Flora did not. The only person who hated him in this house more than her is Clive himself. He has no sympathy for his cause, "I don't care. Get yourself another teacher."

It startles Clive to have ended up being tackled to the ground in such a fashion and his collar is suddenly yanked back hard like a mutt that has reached the end of his leash. Alfendi pulls Clive back into the living room and he is forced to follow while still crawling on the ground because fighting the harsh pull is strangling him. He suddenly knocks his head on a corner of furniture, and he falls to the hardwood floors holding his head in his pain. Alfendi snatches that very hand and something then clicks around his wrist and then another click sounds as he is handcuffed to the heavy leg of the Layton's coffee table. Clive rattles the chain in panic and glances up at Alfendi, his captor.

"Alfendi Layton!" Flora screams at her brother in alarm, "Let him go right now! Give me the key!"

The kid darts to the study and Flora races after him, hot on the heels of his sneakers. She lets out a frustrated sound of fury when she makes it to the door a second after he locks himself inside.

"Where did you get those!?" She demands as she claws at the door in anger.

"Inspector Barton gave them to me for Christmas, don't you remember?" The door suddenly opens and he hands her a curious box. "Here you go. Have fun solving the puzzle lock," he smirks. The smart remark makes her livid.

"This is not funny, Alfendi!" He chuckles anyway, "Open this right now!"

His sister is not exempt from his rage either, "No Flora! You have to decide right now! Do you want to go to Paris or not?"

She responds to this immediately, "Of course I do!"

"Then would you both stop acting like children!?" Alfendi begs them, his hands clutch his wild red hair in exasperation. "You need Clive's help just as much as he needs ours!"

"No I do not!" Clive declares. However, his argument is very falsified as he struggles to pull his hand out of the tight metal bracelet tethering him uselessly to the wooden leg.

"You're not fooling anyone. Just look at you." He says indicating to Clive's dirty disheveled appearance.

"Do I get any say in this!?" Clive exclaims furiously. 'This family is psychotic! They're all crazy!'

The mentally unstable sister erupts at the kid, having lost all patience with him, "Go to your room, Alfendi!"

"You can't tell me what to do! You're not dad!" The hot-heated brother counters, defiantly challenging her authority.

"You just wait until dad gets home! Then we'll see if he doesn't enforce it! Now I said go!" Alfendi growls angrily and storms past Clive. He ascends the stairs and seconds later a loud slam shakes the rest of the house.

Flora falls into the couch with weakness. The excitement of this conflict has zapped away her energy. She sits very quietly, holding her head in her hands. From his perspective on the floor, Clive can see her eyes close regretfully.

"You were a bit hard on him." He observes. Flora glares at him with a sharp look to the side. He quickly drops the subject, "I suppose that's none of my business."

"You're right. It isn't." She retorts, turning her head away and hugging her arms to her chest.

"Flora," he asks her seriously, "Is everything alright?"

"I'm fine!" she snaps, keeping up her stubborn defensive stance. He bites his tongue to keep back a harsh return. He doesn't believe her, but he lets it go because he knows she has already had a rough day. And he was in no position to be insulting if he wants to be freed.

"Hey, can you at least bring that stupid puzzle here?" Clive requests, "I am beginning to admire the lovely craftsmanship of this table, but I don't want to have to carry this with me everywhere I go." He jangles his chain impatiently and she smirks at his amusing ordeal with a little bit of amusement.

She does retrieve it for him, but because he is forever dangerous in her eyes, she hesitantly places it on the ground beside his free hand and gives it a push. It skids to his hand and he picks up the box with the funny puzzle lid. He discovers it to have a wooden border and various colored blocks. He groans when he discovers this particular puzzle is ranked at 70 picarats.

"It had to be a sliding puzzle," He grumbles. Clive gets to work to solve it while Flora kneels beside him, watching ever so intently. He is surprised she stays instead of abandoning him to figure this out on his own, but he suspects she wants to help get him out of her house. It appears they are actually compromising to accomplish this goal.

"No, move that piece back. You could have moved the blue one," She suggests.

"I'm going to be here all night at this rate," Clive grumbles bitterly.

"Your negativity won't solve this puzzle," Flora criticizes.

He is so frustrated he is ready to chuck it across the room and smash the stupid container. It may not be the correct answer, but it would certainly suffice. "I'll just have to explain to my employer I was being held against my will. He should understand right?"

"I'm sure," Flora rolls her eyes, "If you can't solve it then give it here."

He decides to let her have a chance first before resorting to destruction. "Be my guest," he says as he hands it off to her.

She pulls her hands away quickly when his skin touches hers. The box clatters to the ground with a loud clatter, and a deafening silence follows except for the sound of their breathing. He looks at her fearful doe eyes as she quickly picks it back up. Clive tries to apologize for the touch that startled her, but her cheeks are burning pink in embarrassment. She keeps her head down as she focuses on moving the pieces.

It takes her five measly minutes to finally slide the giant red block where it belonged and pop the lid open. She smiles at him in triumph when this is accomplished, "Easy as pie."

"That is not fair! I moved all the troublesome ones to the back for you!" This only makes her giggle and she sticks out her tongue at him.

"Keep telling yourself that!" She laughs freely at his wounded pride.

Just then, the strangest thing happens. Near the neckline of her blouse, a small mark of gold appears, right on her left collarbone. But when her smile fades, it disappears without a trace.

Clive squints his eyes. "What was-" he murmurs.

"Hmm?" Flora holds the key in her soft fingers, "Did you say something?"

"No! Umm no nothing." He must be seeing things. He holds out his arm as she turns the key in the lock for him. The clasp finally opens and Clive rubs his sore wrist, "Thank you, Flora."

"I suppose you'll be going then?" Flora asks warily

"Yes," he says quickly, "It's better for everyone if I leave now." She nods in agreement.

Just then a tired, brilliant professor just arriving home from work strolls by them, distracted by scholarly thoughts. He carries in a manilla folder in his arm with many papers he has brought home with him to revise, correct, and determine the grade .

He suddenly retraces his steps, returning to the unexpected scene in his home of a young man being and woman sitting on floor of his living room, "Flora? Clive is that you?"

"Oh, hello professor!" Clive stands and takes a step away from his daughter's previous close proximity, "It's good to see you."

The professor tips his hat to him curiously, "May I ask, what are you doing here?"

"Well... I... don't know what to tell you to be honest. It's a very long, tiresome story..." Clive mutters uneasily.

He nods and his head tilts to his daughter to whom his attention shifts. "Flora dear, are you quite alright? You look piqued."

She has still not stood up and she was resting her head against her arm as she is hovering over her knees. The professor kneels down beside her and she hugs him affectionately as if to assure him. He smiles and gives her a hand as he pulls her to her feet.

"I'm fine," she tells him with a faint smile.

Clive gawks at her as if she is crazy for this reply. "Aren't you going to tell him what happened!?"

This raises the professor's concern once again. He is about to ask her something when she sighs. "Alfendi is grounded. He had this crazy idea in his head that I should receive French lessons from Clive." She scoffs as if it is the most preposterous idea.

This actually doesn't insult Clive because he is still too concerned about how she could blatantly ignore the fact that she had had a nervous break down. Did no one realize how serious this situation was?

The clueless professor does not question her anymore about her well being, focusing on the faulty answer she provides, "But isn't that necessary? You told me just the other day of that job in Paris, correct?"

"Well yes, but I-" The professor suddenly picks up the shopping bag from the bookstore that had been dropped to the ground: the one Alfendi had bought for her.

He pulls out the small beginner's manual to learning French and flips through the pages before making a reasonable suggestion. "Perhaps you should reconsider. It would seem that Alfendi has gone to great lengths for you to have this opportunity."

Clive nods knowingly, but Flora is still very worked up over the boy's actions, "But I told him I couldn't go anymore! He completely disobeyed me! I was worried sick about him!"

"Yes. She was," Clive shakes his head in disbelief at that understatement.

"I will talk to him," The professor promptly climbs the staircase to properly confront his son on the matter.

Flora breathes a deep forlorn sigh. She clearly is upset and it appears to be more than one matter that is troubling her. He had known of her love of fashion for one day, only one measly day, perhaps less than twenty four hours, and even he could see ho disappointed she is to be missing out on the fashion achievements she knows she will be missing.

"He really did go to a lot of trouble," Clive mentions uncertainly.

"He doesn't understand. I couldn't possibly go."

"If language is the only barrier… I could try to teach you," Clive offers, "This seems like it is really important to you."

"You're only saying that so that you can stay here!" Flora accuses.

"You are impossible!" Clive shouts in exasperation, "Not even ten minutes ago I was trying to escape imprisonment from your house! How can you still think it's all an act!?"

"You've gone to greater lengths before," Flora points out harshly, but she is much less sure of her defense.

"You know what! Never mind then!" He snaps. Her face falls, but he turns away so that he wouldn't have to see it, "Good luck figuring out your life."

"I'm sorry! Please don't go!" Flora shouts desperately.

He looks back, and wishes he hadn't. Her face suddenly appears like the one of the girl he knew ten years ago. The one so frightened to be taken away from the only people she was close to. The girl who seemed to be so afraid and uncertain of what she was supposed to do.

"I don't know what to believe! Can you blame me?"

"No," he whispers.

She bites her lip, still very hesitant, but she finally asks, "Will you please help me? Is there any way you could stay?"

He lifts his fingers to his temples. The idea of it is already a headache, "It really isn't a favorable option for me."

"Even if you had a place to sleep and food to eat?" Flora asks.

"Even then," Clive affirms.

Flora makes her hopeless face again that has the magical effect of automatically filling him with guilt. He is really beginning to hate that face.

"I will stay if you can abide by one condition." Flora glances up expectantly, "Don't threaten to kick me out and don't make my life miserable."

"I think that is actually two-"

"And you can't go back on your word this time," he finishes, not about to let her interrupt.

Flora nods slowly, though despite agreeing she seems to already have mixed feelings about this, "Alright, that seems fair."

"Do you promise?" He scrutinizes.

She crosses her arms firmly, "I promise."

"Good. We will start tomorrow then," He throws himself on the couch and bounces once before completely collapsing blissfully into the springy cushions.

Flora's only response is a slump of her shoulders. One would think she had just sold her very soul.

He lies back on the couch, letting his sore muscles take relief much needed relief. To think, he would not have to sit up all scrunched up in a seat on a bumpy ride through the city. Soon he could enjoy a nice hot shower and rinse off this putrid filth.

He rests his head on the comfortable pillow against the armrest. He glances down to find black smudges of dried mascara under his cheek. He immediately flips it over, too guilty to look at where her tears had stained the fabric.

* * *

_Goodness. So much Clive and Flora cuteness. I love forcing them to interact. I hate making Flora cry though. Why can't these characters be happy._

_It's pretty important to note that the professor doesn't realize Flora gets this upset because he is usually gone and he misses it when it happens. But he could immediately tell she wasn't alright. However, Flora just brushes it off. I kind of think she's one of those people who wouldn't want to trouble others because she is afraid she already does so too much already. So it is super significant that Clive is the only one to have noticed this problem._

_I have this head canon that the Layton's are really close with some of Scotland Yard, like Barton and Chelmey. Alfendi probably really admired them as well as Sherlock._

_Also notice that Layton sided with Alfendi. That's really big. This shows he honestly does treat them equally, though Alfendi doesn't see it that way. _


	9. Chapter 9

"Is he cute?"

"No!" Flora says immediately.

"Oh I bet he is!" Velvet claps her hands in delight. Her bright, jangling bracelets clank together obnoxiously on her petite wrists.

"No, he is not!" Flora repeats.

Velvet tilts her head in disappointment and her earrings clank upon themselves, "Why is your French teacher ugly?"

Flora sighs, "He's not ugly."

"So he is attractive!" Velvet concludes excitedly.

"He is not appealing in the slightest!" Flora asserts for the final time.

"You wouldn't have mentioned him if he wasn't." Velvet winks playfully.

This connotation she is suggesting gets an unexpected and very harsh rise from Flora, "That is not why! I only decided to do this so that I could have a better chance against my competitors!"

Velvet is silent after this outburst, seeing she has stumbled much to far past a touchy boundary, "I was only teasing, honey."

"If I spoke French... and was the kind of designer they wanted... I would get it right?" Flora reasons aloud, hoping to receive some encouragement.

"Yeah yeah, but this Clive guy... Flora, how can he not be beautiful!? He's going to be teaching you the language of love!" Velvet spins around in the small area of Flora's cubicle. Her heavy metal jewelry clinks the most joyous song and her eyelashes flutter in a very girlish manner. She has clearly lost herself in the splendor of an imaginary fantasy.

Flora suspects she must have recently re-read another one of her favorite romance novels in her leisure time. Flora raises a hesitant hand to burst that ridiculous bubble of a daydream, "Ummm, I have a boyfriend, remember?"

"Ohhhh!" Velvet gasps, "Does Fernando know?"

"No," Flora mumbles honestly. She frowns at the sassy smirk Velvet gives her. "I am not keeping anything from Fernando. I just haven't seen him yet today."

"Didn't you have lunch with him?" Velvet reminds her, raising her eyebrow.

"Oh I did!" Flora's cheeks turn a shade pinker, a little ashamed of forgetting this, "I just... didn't know how to bring it up."

Velvet crosses her arms and utters a skeptical, "Uh-huh..."

Flora crosses her arms firmly, not about to let any doubt be seeded into the minds of the many coworkers in their office, "Clive is just my tutor. He is not even a friend. Trust me, Fernando has nothing to worry about."

Velvet's eyes widen during that last sentence, but Flora didn't realize it was a warning. She is suddenly turned in her comfortable cushioned desk chair by an unseen force and when she glances up, her sights meet the very attractive boyfriend she had been speaking of.

"What is there ever to worry about, flower?"

"Oh!" Flora bolts straight up just as Fernando bends down to kiss her. The end result of these two opposing actions is a butt to his chin with her forehead.

"Oops! I'm so sorry! Ahh..." Flora grimaces while rubbing the new sore spot on top of her head. It was simply amazing how she could turn the sweetest gesture into the most humiliating instance. She grips her temples with her fingers to block out the sight of him as he rubs his perfectly sculpted and possibly bruised jawline, "H-how are you today?"

"I am well, "Fernando smiles through the pain. "And I see you are as belissima as always."

Before Flora can request her friend to _not say anything_ about what they were just discussing, Velvet cheekily blurts out, "Flora honey, isn't there something you wanted to tell Fernando?"

His gaze meets hers with much expectation, "And what would that be?"

"I umm..." Flora starts to say. She thinks about telling him what Velvet had been hinting at, but she gets cold feet, "I plan to go to Paris now."

Velvet tries to make an input to that statement, but Flora silently pleads with her eyes.

_'Please don't say anything! I don't want it to be like this. I will tell him. I promise I will. Just not right now!'_

It persuades her, but Velvet still rolls her eyes, They seem to say in reply.

_'You had better do it soon girl.'_

"You reconsidered!" Fernando cheers, pulling her into his arms and spinning her around with glee.

"I did," She uncertainly steps on the ground beneath her tall heels, "But that sort of ruins things doesn't it? You just moved here and now I could be moving away within the next year."

"You say this as if this could come between our love." He shakes his head in contrary, "It is simple really. Where one goes the other will follow."

Flora grins and dips her head at the reassuring words. "What did I ever do to deserve someone so wonderful?"

"I could say the same to you."

They talk about everything after that. Their current work, new trends, but mostly Paris which keeps them thoroughly occupied. Yet Flora cannot seem to fit in her related news anywhere in that conversation. Not when they chat up the rest of the day at the cubicle, not when they walk downstairs hand in hand, or when they get to his amazing car. She did not have a long ride from work to her home and a tense silence arises now that he is focused on driving smoothly down the road. The anxiety eating at her stomach is only more intensified by angry, upset churning.

"Fernan-" She tries to start.

"I should tell-" Fernado begins to ask her at the same instance. "I'm terribly sorry. I did not mean to interrupt. What were you about to say?"

Flora takes a deep breath. This was it, "I just thought I should inform you... I am taking french lessons at my house. I have hired a tutor. He should be able to teach me very frequently."

"Oh," He muses, "That is helpful."

Flora sighs in relief. At least Velvet couldn't hold her accountable. She told him and he was content with it. She even made use of the pronoun he in her sentence so that Fernando knew her tutor was male and he had no problems with it.

She knew she could tell herself this, but the guilt is still there. Of course, she was not obligated to tell him every detail, but she knew she was leaving out all the ones that were important. She should feel it necessary to tell him her teacher had once kidnapped her, was once a dangerous criminal, and that this made her very, very uncomfortable because... well it was Clive.

But... she doesn't see any reason in worrying him quite yet. Besides, who knew, maybe this would not work out. She is so filled with dread at having to face him, she almost hopes it won't.

"Tell me..." Fernando asks of her, "What is something I don't know about you, Flower?"

"Shouldn't you have a pet name too?" Flora inquires mischievously. Suddenly inspiration comes from nowhere, the way it usually comes about, "Oh! How about Ferny!"

He makes a face at this, "Ferny?"

"Yes! We are plants together this way!" She covers her mouth and giggles at these absurd nicknames."Flower and Ferny!"

"You always do that," Fernando notes calmly without glancing away from the road.

"Huh?" Flora's smile fades. She hopes he will say more, but he doesn't elaborate until she prompts him, "Did I do something wrong?"

"No, no," Fernando quickly assures her, "It is not wrong, but I just find it very strange how you change the subject when I ask you such questions about yourself."

"Oh," Flora murmurs, "I'm sorry..." She squints her eyes in confusion, "I-I've never noticed."

"It is alright. You are very humble. There is nothing wrong with that," Fernando tells her.

"Well then. Ask away! I won't avoid anything this time!" Flora promises.

"Let me see..." Fernando ponders, "You love your family very much. Tell me about them."

"Oh umm, the professor..."

"You mean your father, sí?"

"Yes and no..."

Fernando looks to her with a very handsome and confused tilt of his head.

"I was adopted into his family," Flora explains.

"Oh! Now that is making sense," he nods in understanding, "Were you very young?"

Flora clears her throat, "I was fourteen."

"Oh," he says in surprise, "Then what was your life before?"

She sits very still, clasping her hands tightly as they rest on her lap. The walls go up, just like the ones surrounding the village she could not mention to any other soul. Even if she could tell him, he would think she was crazy!

"Well?" Fernando asks with a small laugh, "Won't you tell me?"

"I... umm... well overall I enjoyed my childhood. I grew up in a very loving community. They took care of me after the passings of both my mother and then my father. Those were hard on me of course... but I had to move on. I had grieved over them long enough," she swallows nervously, but she is happy with her summarization. She had at least mentioned the most important aspects.

"You are a very beautiful woman," Fernando tells her comfortingly, "I am sure they would be very proud of you if they were here."

Flora looks back to him, but the walls are still very high. She wishes she could tell him, but every fiber of her tells her she cannot, not yet.

"I may tell you more one day, but... Right now it is still too soon to share this part of me."

Fernando nods in understanding, "I will await that day with much fondness in my heart."

"Thank you for driving me home again," Flora says quickly with much gratitude.

"It is nothing," he chuckles, "Do be sure to work on your own driving, my _bella_."

Nerves fill Flora's stomach with butterflies. The only way she can make less of the comment is with anxious giggles, "I will see you tomorrow."

She exits his sleek vehicle and crosses her driveway in haste. There will be no time to waste tonight. If she is to fit in this lesson she will first have to get some new sketches, finish sewing the prototypes she had started for the upcoming fall line, and start on Alfendi's Christmas gift this winter.

At the front door, she reaches into her jacket pockets to find her keys, but they seem to be misplaced. She sets down her briefcase to find them when she suddenly hear her brother laughing outside.

In the biggest tree in their yard, she finds her boys doing the most peculiar thing... Clive and Alfendi hang upside down from the lowest branch which was actually very high up. Their shirts have fallen to where there sleeves still cling to their arms, and their skinny bellies are exposed.

"What should I tell Flora I want to be for Halloween this year?" Alfendi asks Clive.

Clive ponders for an idea while swinging slightly at his knees. He is most certainly tearing up the back of his trousers by doing this. Her father's trousers actually... "I don't know. Be whatever you want to be."

"I think I want to be a vampire bat!" Alfendi decides immediately, "I could fly around and bite people!"

Flora giggles at this boyish reasoning, but she can already see his concept in her mind. She could easily construct a pair of fabric wings to attach to his sleeves so that they could actually flap and he could run or pretend fly to his heart's content. She would have to save this idea for later and start on that right away.

"You have plenty of time to think about that. It's still months away," Clive suddenly recalls. After saying this, Alfendi takes a deliberate snap at Clive, but he pulls away to avoid his bite, "Hey! Don't! Woah-" Clive straightens his legs in his alarm and falls to the ground below. Flora winces, almost able to feel the pain when he lands head first and then flops limply onto his back.

Alfendi pulls himself up to sit on the branch, somewhat concerned for him. "Hey, you ok Clive?"

Only a small moan can be heard. Flora quickly rushes over to where the injured man lays, worried he could be seriously hurt. Upon closer inspection, he is hardly moving except for a small rise and fall in his chest.

"Are you quite alright?" She pokes him tentatively with the point of her shoe, "Are you playing 'possum there?"

He opens his tired eyes and looks to Alfendi above him in the tree instead of her concerned gaze, "I don't know. Is that what this game is called?"

"Yeah!" Alfendi leaps from the tree and onto his feet. He sits down and rolls over onto Flora's feet, sticking his tongue out with a huge grin while lying very still.

'This is more restful than my hyper boy ever is,' Flora giggles at her brother's silliness and kneels beside him to ruffle his hair, "You are such a rascal!"

"Quit it! Ugh!" Alfendi complains, reaching up to push away her hand.

"You can't move Al," Clive says, trying to move his lips as little as possible, "We're dead remember."

"Oh yeah," Alfendi closes his eyes and displays his tongue again to appear as though he is lifeless.

"This isn't a very interesting game is it?" Flora speculates aloud in a very mischievous tone, but neither of the boys make any comment. They lay very still. Clive has a bit of a worried scowl while Alfendi is trying not to smirk when she asks them, "What if I did this?"

She tickles Alfendi's ribs and he immediately cries out. He kicks uncontrollably and has to fight to push her away. "Thi-this- is not a battle- you should have started!" He struggles to declare through his laughter, "I am- the tickle fight champion!"

He reaches out and takes hold of her ankle, causing her to fall into the grass. She lets out a yelp of distress," Ahhhh!"

"No one tickles me and gets away with it!"

"Oh no no! Don't you-" She warns, But he takes a hold of her shoe and chucks it into the grass behind him. He begins tickling the bottom of her very sensitive foot with very quick fingers.

Squeals of hysterical delight and anguish escape her. He does not release his captive until tears form from laughing this much.

"Stop! Please!" Flora screams through her fit of giggles, "You win! You wiiin!" She admits in desperation.

Alfendi laughs beside her. Because he is all powerful in this situation, he does not show mercy. He speeds up the tickles, bringing on a whole new level of joyful torment.

"Stoppp! Help me! Please!" Flora begs.

The horrible tickling ends very abruptly. She is finally able to breathe a deep breathe. She quickly pulls on her shoe again to protect her weakest spot. Her brother cries out in protest and she gasps to find her brother in a headlock by her rescuer.

"What's the big idea, Clive! How come you helped her and not me!?"

"You didn't ask me!" Clive snickers and he gives him a noogie. Alfendi ducks down and pulls his head free. He quickly retaliates against this unfair treatment and wrestles him to the ground. However, Flora is certain Clive could overcome Alfendi's boyish strength if he wished to.

Flora quickly pulls Alfendi off of him and into her arms, "That is enough rough play. Someone is going to get hurt."

"You're no fun!" Alfendi grumbles at her, trying to break free of her protection.

Clive sits up and stretches his limbs, completely unfazed, "It's fine. There isn't anything he could have done that would have hurt me."

Flora glares at him fiercely, not concerned about his well being. She only cared about whether her brother would be hurt by this dangerous man.

Clive breaks the eye contact first, dropping his eyes to the ground, "He can't hurt me any more than anyone else ever has."

Flora's hold of her brother loosens enough for him to escape. "Quit being mopey, Clive! I thought we already went over this."

"It's a little easier said than done," Clive grumbles irritably.

"What would cheer you up? How about a movie? Or pizza?" Alfendi suggests, but Clive shakes his head sadly. Her brother still urges him, "Come on! Why don't you want to play anymore?"

"Don't you have homework, Al?" Flora interrupts him.

"Don't you have a French lesson, Flora?" He mimics her authoritative tone back at her.

"Yes, I suppose I do," Flora mutters with a dry tone that makes Alfendi smirk, "But I won't start until you do."

Alfendi is on his feet in an instant and he dashes across the lawn with his long legs like a gazelle. Before Flora can get up to follow him into the house, Clive clears his throat.

"I actually have the manual here with me." He picks up the small book that he had leaning at the base of the tree trunk.

"Oh, we are staying outside?"

"It doesn't matter," Clive mentions uncertainly, "I suppose you could decide your preference."

Flora gazes up at the perfect blue sky and the sun she is soaking up is her guilty pleasure, considering she spends most of her hours indoors slaving away at a desk,"I prefer this."

"I do too," Clive nods at her choice while he diligently skims through the pages of his book. He pats a grassy spot beside him with his other hand, but Flora doesn't dare to come near him.

"You aren't going to learn from way over there," he says.

"I'm not avoiding you," She declares, crossing her arms defensively.

"I never said you were," he pats the ground again. She finds it very difficult to stand by the claim she has just made. Out of pride, she scoots over to where he has indicated he wanted her. It is but a mere book length away. Flora's entire body tenses while she stares down at the book between them, filled with it's foreign vocabulary. She does not dare to look to her right where a terrible kidnapper, liar, and criminal is sitting.

"So I've given a lot of thought about this today. How I could go about teaching you that is..."

"Wait! Hold on a second!" Flora takes off across the lawn to retrieve her briefcase from the porch. She lugs back the heavy bag and dives in to pull out a pen and a pad of lined paper to take notes with, "And what did you conclude?"

"Well you are already much more prepared than I am," he smiles, "Miss eager student."

Flora glares back defensively, "Well of course I'm prepared. This is important to me."

"I suppose I wanted to start with our basis. Do you know any French presently?"

"Umm..." Flora murmurs uncertainly, "_Bonjour?_"

Clive rolls his eyes at this. "_Bonjour_," he replies, "Anything else?"

"Well I don't know French now do I?" she argues to her defense. "Oh, let's see... umm _deja vu... moi... crepes... escargot_-"

"Ugh!" Clive suddenly shutters in disgust.

"What!?" Flora demands.

"Snails!" He shutters again, "What disgusting little creatures."

Flora grins in amusement. "You don't like them?"

"Heavens no," he says at once. "Ugh, but Constance... She would have these gatherings. I-I could never wrap my mind around that! How can anyone eat pudgy, little blobs in shells? I-i-it's revolting!"

"They aren't all that terrible, they are actually much better than you would think. They soak up the flavor that they are cooked in-" she tries to explain to him. Clive's mouth hangs open in shock.

"What!" Flora demands again.

He scrutinizes her skeptically. "You've eaten snails?"

Flora can't help feeling put on the spot by this question, but she answers with honesty, "Yes...I-I mean _wee_!"

He falls onto his back again, but this time he is rolling on the grass, clutching his stomach from laughing at her, "A ha ha ha ha!"

"It's not like they plucked them out of the dirt! It is good!" She insists, "It may have been too fancy for you, but whatever Matthew made was suitable for me!"

"You ate snails! I can never look at you the same way again!" He laughs rudely.

"It's not weird! It is cultured!"

"Do you hear yourself right now?" He teases, "Because you are gross!"

"But-"

"There will be no arguing with the teacher! I will not condone this. You must remember your promise!" He asserts with a authorities point, "Without a doubt, you are the most disgusting person I have ever met."

"Can you teach me some French now?" Flora suddenly insists on becoming serious again.

"Yes of course. Repeat after me," he says, becoming very serious, "_Je suis_ Flora. _Et je suis brute_."

Flora does not repeat the words. It is not because she didn't know how they sounded. On the contrary, she was so captivated by the beautiful flow of the words that desired to only hear them, again and again.

"Wow," she breathes, "W-what did you say?"

He smirks in amusement, "I said, 'I am Flora. And I am gross.'"

Flora's mouth hangs open, wanting to protest, but no argument comes out. He laughs again, but instead of becoming annoyed she finds herself laughing at this thoroughly as well, quite unable to stop, "No you did not! Did you really?"

Clive tries to compose himself as well, but he laughs at her even more, "I'm sorry. I just-I can't-" He shakes his head unable to justify himself, but he is still thoroughly amused.

"I really thought it sounded like a compliment," Flora laughs, "I suppose I should have known better."

"I really am sorry. I am being so rude, but I am kidding. A very little bit anyway," he assured her with a devious smile. He suddenly glances down at something else that catches his eye about her. This starts to test Flora's patience. She follows his gaze and is insulted to find it so close to her chest, but then she sees it... her golden apple on her left collar bone. She smacks a hand over the mark and turns her shoulders away as she stands.

Before Clive is able to ask what her mark is he on his feet wondering what is the matter so suddenly, "Hey where are you going?"

"I-I can't do this right now... I-I have work to do by tomorrow. I'm going to be up all night as it is," she says as she tries to flee from this uncomfortable situation.

"Flora wait!" She turns on her heels in outrage and Clive stops just short of running into her. She takes a step back, just wanting to be away from him, "This will not be any easier if you put this off you know."

"I will decide when I have time for this!" She says with a stamp of her foot. The soil is pierced by the tall stiletto and snaps right beneath her. Clive jumps in alarm as she squeaks and takes a startling tumble to the ground.

"Looks like someone has been knocked off her high horse," He grumbles, but he reaches down to pull her back up. She accepts the hand shamefully and lets him lift her to her feet. She is surprised to discover they are actually near the same height when they were both on level ground. She always had thought she was taller, but he may actually be a hair above her.

He has a firm hold of her arms to balance her so that she is able to kick off her ruined pair of shoes and step down and she immediately has to pull away from him. The last time he ever held onto her arm like this he had kidnapped her. He had been capable of it once and he would still be strong enough to take her away now.

She wipes his touch on her sleeve as she hugs her arms tightly. She sees this has offended him, but he just drops his gaze to his hands in his pockets.

"Clive-" she almost starts to apologize.

"I know you don't like me, but I am not here to hurt anyone ok? If I am going to teach you, you need to be able to trust me. Can we have some sort of truce?" Clive requests, "You can hate me as much as you want, but during our lessons, you have to let me help you."

Flora nods, "That's fair enough. It's just..." She sighs, and sits down again in the grass under the shade of the tree, "Do you ever feel like it's impossible? How am I going to learn a whole language in one year?"

"I can't speak for you..." Clive begins to say, "But I don't actually think that's true. From what I can see, if you truly want something you seem to go after it."

"And how did you come up with that theory?" Flora sighs at him, still staring down at the grass, unable to look at him.

"You made it to the future, didn't you?" He points out.

"I..." Flora squints her eyes, realizing he is possibly right about this. She has run after the Professor and Luke more than once. Now she is running after this opportunity for Paris, "I do tend to do that."

"Chase after what matters to you. Don't let self-doubt get in the way of your dreams."

"Easy for you to say," Flora criticizes, "You have no goals."

"You're wrong," Clive tells her, "I've already told you, I want to be a decent person. This is a step towards that."

Flora blinks in surprise, "Helping me makes you feel like a good person?"

"I think this would count as a good act right? Considering I really don't want to help you, but I am anyway for your sake," He grins in triumph, "I'm actually being a bit selfless, wouldn't you say."

"Don't get a big head over it. You are supposed to do it out of the kindness of your heart not because it seems righteous," Flora tells him.

He sighs a sarcastically forlorn sigh, "It's hard to be good," then he gives a very indifferent shrug, "I suppose it will all come with practice right?" Flora just smiles at this and shrugs in response, but then she casually places her hand on her shoulder. The soft giggles she had been trying to contain wished very much to be free.


	10. Chapter 10

Clive shakes his shaggy hair dry and discards his towel on the ground before recalling the existence of the hamper. His hair is well past his nose when wetted down, but when he tries to tuck it behind his ear it does not stay and falls right back into view. He wears a new pair of jeans Flora bought him for working in. To her irritation, he has already stained and torn them up from his work at the factory. His job is rather ironic actually. He can still remember the days he had supervised the construction of his machine, observing the production on the assembly line. Now that is where he is, doing the simple but repetitive labor of a slave who could not escape his menial line of work.

He shrugs on his old shirt that is no longer white. It buttons up in the front, but he hasn't bothered to do that yet. His aching muscles are sore even after his relaxing shower as his legs carry him to the kitchen. Once there, he stretches his arms wide in greeting.

"Good morning, Professor," He yawns to find his old friend.

The professor smiles with earnest welcome, already seated at the table, "Yes it is. Do sit down."

A slow routine had begun to emerge during Clive's stay with the Layton's. For example, today is Thursday. He started with morning tea with the professor. Clive usually only saw him in these earliest hours of the day or at the latest times of night. The professor taught so many lectures at the university, which is the reason behind his frequent absence, but in truth he probably was home half of the time. To make up for this, he made a remarkable effort to be present in the lives of his loved ones. On Tuesday and Friday afternoons Layton would usually play with Alfendi and spend bonding time with his son. Sometimes he would try to slip in a quick puzzle; that would usually end with Alfendi running upstairs to do his homework. With Flora, she would usually join him in his study. She stayed up very late most nights. She was sometimes still up when he would leave for his graveyard shift at the factory. She would sometimes ask to pull a book off the shelf to read and she would silently accompany him while he graded essays.

"How are you feeling today?" The professor asks of him.

Clive fixes his eyes on his tea as he sets down the delicate stirring spoon, "Oh the same as always," he remarks sarcastically.

"Is there anything I can do to help you?"

Clive glances up at the helpful and kind eyes of the man who has already been so generous to him. He knew that the professor would certainly offer assistance if it were needed.

"I don't think so, Professor..."

"Are you sure?"

He shakes his head, "I am living a poor excuse of a life. I am only sustaining myself at your cost."

"It is no trouble to us, Clive," he tells him immediately, the way he has almost every time they conversed.

"You say that, but I still feel troublesome."

"I do not mind in the slightest. Alfendi cares for you and Flora doesn't seem to be angry about you being here anymore."

"Well, she does acknowledge me when I am teaching her, but I hardly think that counts," Clive remarks. Their mutual hatred was being contained. He could tell Flora was having to bite her tongue just as often as he had to. During lessons she would be as obedient as possible, but to cross paths in the hallway, kitchen, living room, or foyer, this did not even earn a glance in his direction, "I do prefer the silent treatment to arguing."

"Are the lessons going well?" Layton asks him curiously.

"I would say they are," he admits honestly, "She is an outstanding student actually. I can tell she is taking this seriously and I find her practicing often."

"Yes, she is a very brilliant young woman," the professor smiles fondly.

Clive's brow furrows the slightest bit because there is just one aspect bothering him, "I don't know why she thought she would struggle when she knows how to excel."

"I am glad she decided to give this an opportunity. I would love to see her accomplish the great achievements she speaks of."

"Lucky her," Clive grumbles with a tone of bitter envy.

"You will find your purpose, Clive. I am sure of it."

"Maybe," Clive still feels pretty worthless, "Do you ever wonder... is it... " he trails off, deciding not to finish the thought.

Layton can sense the very dark shift in his tone, "Clive... Promise me you won't do anything drastic," he emphasizes seriously.

Clive drops his eyes in shame, "I promise I won't."

The professor looks at him a moment longer before finishing off his tea. He stands and rests a fatherly hand on his shoulder, "Be sure to get some rest before Alfendi gets home," he chuckles.

"Right," Clive nods, still not lifting his gaze, but he grins at this because he knows he will need a nap before the little ruffian returned.

He quietly retreats to the familiar cushions of his couch that are becoming less comfortable by the day. Alfendi had left for school, the professor was heading out to prepare for his lecture that afternoon, and Flora would be leaving for work any moment now. Quiet and rest were whispering his name in the silence that followed Layton's departure. Rest overcomes him before he ever hears the engine start on the professor's car.

* * *

Clive wakes much too soon to another worldly interruption that came from the real world. When the phone rang the first time, he heard it, but figured he could let it ring. It did not stop eventually like he had hoped. The caller calls again and again. He finally stumbles over to where a black dial phone hung on the wall and he somehow tangles his whole arm in the curly cord when he nearly drops the phone in his haste.

Clive snarls the grouchiest and snidest greeting at the frequent time caller, "You have reached the Layton residence. Leave a message."

"Excuse me, is Flora home?" A woman asks of him.

Clive yawns in irritation and glances at the clock. Nine forty-five: Flora's work day started those forty some minutes ago,"She left already."

"I-" the woman stammers nervously, "But I haven't seen her... And she hasn't clocked into work."

Clive can hardly process this inconceivable statement. Flora... was not at work?

"What do you mean she's not at work? She just didn't show up?"

"No!" the worried tremor breaks the woman's voice, "And I don't know where she could be either."

The severity of this situation sinks in when he realizes something must be really wrong, "I-I'll go look for her. I'll call back when I find her, alright?"

The woman leaves him a number to call back to and he shoves the note in his pocket as he races out the door. Up and down various streets of London he goes to every bus stop nearby, unsure of which one Flora took to go to work. By the time he has ran around six different blocks, he is breathing heavily and his legs feel about ready to collapse beneath him. Beads of sweat are trickling down his face and dripping off of his strands of hair and into his eyes. That shower he had taken this morning is all but a memory now.

When his searches become more than fruitless he is convinced that she must have run into trouble after getting off the bus. He needed to call the police and the professor. For all he knew she could be in real danger. He rests a second more before he runs all the way back to the Layton's, dashing into their house and to the phone to call for help. But that's when he spots a bright orange form in the kitchen.

A shade of orange that Flora would usually sport.

He takes a few steps back and sure enough she has been safe and sound all along.

She lies fast asleep with wet hair plastered to the surface of the table. The orange color he saw is a fluffy ginger blossom tinted robe. The handle of a lukewarm mug of coffee is still looped around her limp hand.

He reaches out to shake her shoulder, but quickly pulls his hand back before he touches her because this will startle her. Instead he taps his knuckles on the table top to alert her, "Flora! You have to wake up! You're late for work!"

"Work?" she sighs peacefully in her sleep before shouting in alarm "Work!?" She lifts her head attentively with her eyes still closed. She is only able to blink sleepily a few times before her head falls forward. She sinks deeper and more comfortably into the fluffy sleeve of her right arm.

This is not the Flora he remembers just a few weeks ago who nearly assaulted him with a briefcase when she was running mere minutes behind. "Flora... are you alright?"

Her eyebrows tuck down, but then loosen again as she breathes a soft reply, "I feel dizzy."

"Dizzy? Dizzy how?" Clive demands an answer, but she only buries her sleepy head into her cozy elbow. Her right hand drags the mug and its contents. Clive carefully takes her hand and frees the cup from her frail fingers before she could spill it.

The strange liquid he has in his hands smells strong, but much too strong to be normal coffee. It is tinted a lighter brown with what he assumed was cream, but it still did not look right.

Out of curiosity, he takes a quick sip and sputters it right back into the very same mug. He dumps the disgusting concoction down the drain and he has to down a glass of water to get rid of the putrid taste. Even after this he still feels as if he has coffee grounds stuck to his throat. 'Is this really what she drinks in the morning!?'

He takes one look at Flora and figures he ought to make a phone call back to the woman, Velvet. There is no way she would be coming into work today.

He tiptoes as quietly as he can to the living room so as not to wake up the slumbering Flora, but does not make it.

"Can you make waffles, professor?" She murmurs very sweetly.

He believes he woke her and she was speaking to him. But she had called him professor. He is not wearing his orange sweater today so she cannot be confused in this way. He waves a hand in front of her face and sure enough she is still asleep.

"Ummmmm," Clive doesn't even know how to reply to this actually. "It's Clive here... "

'You know... your mortal enemy and all?'

Somewhere deep in her sleepy subconscious she fixes the mistake in who she is referring to and she asks again, "Will you make me waffles... Clive?"

He tries not to laugh at how nicely she just requested this favor of him, "Waffles huh?"

She giggles so unknowingly before sighing very happily, "Yeees pleeease."

Clive cannot keep a straight face at this, laughing all the way to the stove to make something that will surely satisfy her sweet tooth.

She sleeps through most of the clatter and clanging he makes when the spoons hits the edges of the bowl or he scrapes a spatula against a pan. Just moments before he was about to transfer the actual meal of a breakfast to a plate for her, is when he nearly jumps out of his skin because she had silently come up behind him to glance at what it is he prepared.

She is clutching a handful of her disastrous hair, brushing it away from her face, but her short bangs slip her grasp and fall into to her closed eyelids. No matter how many times she tries to keep them open they shut again like a broken pair of window blinds. Flora's eyebrows are very tense, but not in anger, but with groggy confusion.

"What are you doing?" She murmurs in an inaudible whisper.

"I umm... couldn't find a waffle iron, but I made pancakes," Clive replies hesitantly.

She squints at this, not seeming to comprehend why he would do such a thing. Any memory of asking him for these waffles was erased from her current consciousness, "...for me?"

"Well for me too. I made enough for both of us," Clive shrugs with his skillet and slides a giant flapjack on his plate as well, "Where do you keep the syrup?"

Flora doesn't respond for a few moments, taking a long amount of time, still dazed at this strange happenstance, "In... In the pantry..."

Clive prepares two place settings at the table, the bottle of syrup, a bowl of strawberries he found in the refrigerator, and a small tub of margarine.

Flora is about to sit down when he pulls out the chair for her. She pauses for a moment but sits down without a word and scoots forward as he takes a seat across from her, "You... aren't trying to butter me up are you?"

"If I were trying to do that I would have stuck a piece of toast to your face while you were still asleep."

Flora smirks the slightest bit at his joke, "You wish you had thought of that earlier, don't you?"

"I do now," Clive laughs at this, surprised that she decided to have a sense of humor instead of lashing out at him like usual.

She frowns again at this expression of amusement. Her eyebrows point down again in suspicion, "What game are you playing with me?"

"It's nothing," Clive dismisses. She gives him a fierce glare and does not dare touch a fork until he explains himself.

He sighs, "You looked absolutely really dreadful when I found you ok, but... you are even more hilarious when you sleep talk."

"Sleep talk! I do not!" Clive laughs at his so thoroughly that she has no choice but to believe him, "Do I really!?"

"Yeah, and you dream of waffles."

Flora's face becomes a healthier shade of pink right across her once pale cheeks. "I didn't say anything else did I? "

"No no," Clive laughs again, but with a fun dose of mischief in addition to his response, "I did not ask you your deepest, darkest secrets."

Flora tries to comb out her hair with anxious and flustered fingers, "Do I really look that bad?" She asks sensitively.

He pauses at this sudden vulnerability, trying to decide best how to answer this without hurting her feelings. "You look ill."

She seems a bit relieved and finally takes a petite bite of the pancake. He is surprised she had not thought to question whether he had bothered to poison it. Though he had been eating his too and he had done a superb job if he did say so himself.

"I'm not ill," she assures him, but based on this morning's events and those from before he finds this statement very faulty.

"I don't really believe you..."

"I have low blood sugar," Flora admits, "I faint a lot actually. It's no big deal if it happens."

"Good to know, but it would happen even less if you ate a proper breakfast in the morning," Clive rebukes her.

"I try to..." Flora yawns hugely and places a triangle of pancake on her tongue. She chews it quickly before speaking again, "I run out of time most mornings."

"When did you even go to bed last night?" Clive wonders.

Flora becomes very tight lipped when he asks this. Her head dips down guiltily and she takes a slightly larger bite of fluffy flapjack to fill her mouth with, but he doesn't relent, "Well?"

"Erm..." She swallows nervously, "I don't remember."

"Around what time was it then?" He persists.

"I think it might have been... 3?"

"3 am!" Clive exclaims.

Flora shrinks a bit at his raised voice, "Sometimes I get inspired late in the night. If I wait until morning I lose the idea... It's a bad habit, I know," she admits honestly.

"I'll say," Clive criticizes rudely, "It's no wonder you look half dead! You need to take better care of yourself. Eating and sleeping keep you alive you know."

Flora scoffs at him a little, "I am just fine. I do this all the time. I haven't gone to bed early since my first year of college."

"Is that supposed to be an excuse?"

"No..." Flora says a little more uncertainly, "But I am so busy. That's just adulthood," Flora tells him matter-of-factly as she takes a huge, last bite of her breakfast, "I must be going. Thank you for the meal, but I need to get dressed and go to work."

"Right... about that," Clive points to a clock on the wall behind him.

Flora lets out a small sound of shock and covers her mouth in horror, "I'm two hours late!?"

"You might as well not go. You still don't look well," Clive muses thoughtfully.

"Don't be ridiculous!" She insists as if he is stupid for suggesting this. The urgency to leave has her completely wired and back to her usual rude self. She quickly pushes in her chair and abandons her dishes. She runs upstairs and is back and perfectly prepared to go in another impossibly fast minute.

The phone suddenly rings again because Clive had waited too long to call her friend. Flora and Clive race to reach the phone, but she gets it first.

"I am so sorry. I can't believe I-I overslept this morning," Flora tries to explain all at once.

"Give me the phone," Clive requests calmly. When she does not give it up he reaches for it to take it away by force.

"No!" Flora shouts into the receiver, "No not you! I can still come... No I want to! I don't want to use a sick day!"

Clive pulls the phone out of her hand and takes over the conversation, "Hi, this is Clive again, Flora is very ill and yes she needs to take that sick day," he emphasizes very seriously.

"Give that back!" Flora demands, trying to claw the phone out of his firm grip.

"Ow! Quit it!" He shouts at the sharp nails scratching into the skin of his hands.

Her friend Velvet laughs into the phone at them, "I tried to tell her, but she never listens to me. Good luck trying to keep her from working from home."

The line goes dead, making it so that when Flora snatches the phone out of his hand there was no one to plead to, "Hello! Hello! Velvet this isn't funny! I can't-"

"It's one day Flora! Why don't you just relax!" Clive says in exasperation.

"I am already behind as it is! I have to go!"

"No you don't," Clive argues. "The fashion world will not collapse of you are gone one day."

"But!" Flora protests, but she no longer has any other words to back up her argument. "But-"

"But nothing. Enjoy your day off," with that said, he stalks off to return to his nap on the couch. This argument reminds him just how exhausted he is.

She grabs his shoulder and whirls him around to face her, "Why are you so mean!? Why are you doing this to me! Are you still trying to ruin my life?"

"You really don't appreciate anything I do for you, do you?" He sighs hopelessly.

"All you have ever done has only been in spite of me!" She declares.

He gapes at her in complete disbelief, "But! This morning alone- I did- I made pancakes and-"

Flora raises one eyebrow at him and his angry sputters suddenly turn into a furious rant, "How can anyone be so spoiled and selfish!? Why is everything always about you!? Or fashion!"

Flora's mouth falls open and she glares at him so angrily he proceeds to list off everything she is criticizing him for, "First, I go looking for you when Velvet was worried sick about you. I find you and then I made you breakfast because you were starving. Now I gave you a day off which you needed whether you like it or not! Not to mention, I am teaching you French in my spare time! I'm sorry if all of this is so horrible! I clearly am a terrible person for doing all this for you!"

Flora's bright shining eyes gleam with a hint of tears in the corners. The hurt and guilt and defensiveness all try to stay contained in those few tears. She turns her back to him to wipe them away.

"I'm-" She does not bother with anything he has to say. She goes to the kitchen without a word, turning and gathers up all their dishes. They are thrown into the sink with a loud and dramatic clamor.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to say all that," he insists.

"Yes you did. You wouldn't have said it otherwise. I'll have you know that I am not selfish and I am not spoiled! Do you know what I think of you?" She rants at him for his hypocrisy.

"I think I know..." He supposes that even though he might have been angry, there was no excuse for taking all of his frustration out on her, "But you really shouldn't care," Clive remarks, trying to denounce his own credibility now, "It's not like what I say should matter anyway right? I thought I was a liar to you."

"You are!" She says with an immediate fury.

"But if I was lying then you have nothing to be offended by," he tells her. She turns to him still appearing to be very offended regardless,"But if I was telling the truth, then you can finally believe I am not a liar anymore. Right?"

Flora pauses, she shakes her head, but is unable to denounce how contradictory this is, "I know you meant what you said! So fine! If you aren't a liar... then you are still a jerk!" Flora wipes her eyes with hands soapy with dishwater.

"I didn't say I wasn't," Clive testifies truthfully, "But, while I am still being honest I do want to say that what I said was wrong."

She gives a nod that at least lets him know she had is all he could get out of her before she pushes past him, obviously wanting some space. He respects this unspoken desire, but instead of going to sleep he sits on his couch with a deck of cards he pulls out of his pocket. He pretends to play solitaire as he watches Flora because honestly he still worries that she is not actually alright.

Her day is spent catching up on neglected housework. Washing the dishes, folding some laundry, dusting the furniture, vacuuming the carpet, mopping the tile floors, and every other chore she could find to preoccupy herself with.

'Who would need a maid when they had Flora the workaholic under their roof,' Clive ponders. He is too afraid to ask her if she wants help with anything because she is in _the zone_.

She goes upstairs a while to work on some designs. He hears the whir of a sewing machine stitching away at a furious speed. She comes downstairs after about an hour of this. He listened to the clanking in the kitchen as she tried to make a quick lunch. He tries not to grin when she comes out with a prepackaged cup of yogurt instead and settles into a chair.

"What!" She snaps at him suddenly and he realizes he had been staring at her.

He drops his gaze but he notes casually, "When I gave you a sick day you were supposed to relax."

"I did relax," she claims innocently.

"When?" Clive wonders.

"I was designing just a bit ago," Flora tells him.

Clive shakes his head, "Nope, that doesn't count. If it was for work then it isn't leisure."

"But I enjoy it," Flora tries to insist, "At least I haven't wasted my whole day just sitting on my bum doing nothing."

"You should try it actually," Clive says as he shuffles up his cards to start a new game, "Care to join me?"

"No," she says immediately.

"Of course you can't," he taunts.

"I can," Flora says very sure of herself, "I just don't want to."

"Too much work to be done right?" He glances over mischievously.

Flora walks away with her empty yogurt container and he assumes she had stormed off because she didn't care to be joked with. As he is dealing out a new game for himself his cards suddenly fall into a jumble as someone else takes a seat on the cushion.

"Are you going to deal me in?" Flora demands.

He grins with a hint of mockery, "What game are you playing with me?"

"One that I'm sure to win," Flora asserts.

"Oh let me see... I think I know the perfect game," He deals out three cards to the each of them, "I call this one 13."

One started off with a mere three cards, but each round the cards dealt would increase by one until they reached thirteen. The number of cards in their hands corresponded to their wild card. Each round one had to fill their hand with cards that matched until one had at least three of a kind for every card in their hand. Clive kept the score and they had been winning about every other round. He is much more boisterous with exclamations of triumph or grumbles of defeat when he won or lost. Flora is also very competitive just like she had hinted before, but she is silent and keeps a perfect poker face until she reveals her cards. Only then would she smirk and make a snide comment to him. It is absolutely infuriating, but he would be lying if he were to say this wasn't fun.

On that last round he is nearly ready to go out when two small hands ambush him from behind. He knows it can only be one boy, "Oh no!"

He is yanked by his long hair, causing him a very torturous pain. He cries out and his cards scatter onto the ground where they are now engaged in a fierce wrestling match. Clive pins down Alfendi easily of course and for some reason this makes the boy chuckle with delight.

He may have lost the card game, but at least he would never admit defeat in one of His wrestling matches with Alfendi, "Not bad, Al. The element of surprise almost helped you."

"You didn't even see me coming, did you?" He asks excitedly.

"I didn't," Clive admits with a laugh. He suddenly recalls he did not get any sleep today either. He is very exhausted now so he lets the boy go.

"I came in the back door today!" Alfendi tells him, as if this is a very new and exciting way that one could enter.

"I don't think the hair pulling was playing by the rules though!" Clive rebukes him. He rubs his sore follicles that had been strong enough to stay on his head.

"There are no rules!" Alfendi declares with a vicious grin that matched his guerrilla warfare.

"I don't remember establishing this." Clive shakes his shaggy head in disagreement. His hair falls into his eyes by default even when he tries to brush it away again.

"Do you need a haircut, Clive?" Flora wonders, taking note of this inconvenience to him.

"I do. Do you know anyone who could do that?"

"Sure I can do that for you," she tells him.

Clive's eyes widen in horror, "Wait, you?"

"Yeah. Flora knows how," Alfendi assures him.

"You probably need one soon as well," she muses. Her tender hand runs through Alfendi's lengthy, wavy locks.

Like always, he pushes away much like a young boy his age would, "Not yet! I like it this way!"

Clive laughs at this adorable squabble, hoping they had forgotten he is there, but then Flora gets up and runs upstairs. When she returns she has the scissors in her hands and a small pouch in the other. She steps out the back door and calls to him impatiently, "Come on, Clive! I don't have all day!"

He glances back at the boy lounging upside down on his couch the way only a child would think to sit on the cushions.

"What's the matter Clive?" Alfendi whispers mischievously, "Afraid she'll cut off at your hair?"

He gulps anxiously. That actually wasn't in his head... Until now! He is absolutely petrified where he stands. Is he really about to trust Flora, the crazy sister, with a pair of scissors... near his head!?

He takes a chair from the kitchen and takes it to the backyard in the sunny garden trying to not think of all the harm that could be brought to him by his nemesis. Flora sets up her grooming tools on the very beautiful cast iron bench under a beautiful archway covered in vines of dark ivy. He places his chair by the bench, but is to nervous to sit.

"So," Flora studies his shaggy mane, wondering what needs to be done, "How much shorter did you want it then?" She pushes him down in the seat and starts circling him so that she may see every angle.

For one time only, he is glad his hair is in his eyes because it is hiding the fear so present in them, "I don't know. Ju-just normal... But shorter."

Flora comes around to the front with her hands on her hips, "Do you think I know what you mean by that?"

She bends down and brushes the hair off of his forehead with a touch so gentle that he can hardly believe this is a woman who hates his guts. It actually almost reminds him of the way his mother used to fix the hair under his cap as a child. He immediately shakes away the foggy memory. Flora pulls her hand away when he does this, but then she smiles, "I think I have an idea."

Clive's muscles tense with fear, "What are you going to do?"

"You'll see." She opens her scissors to start, but when she takes a lock of hair in her fingers he cringes before she can chop it off.

"...What's the matter?" she wonders, almost sounding concerned for him.

He trembles violently when she rests her hand in his hair again, "You have to tell me! I don't want it to look bad!"

"What! I won't make it look bad! Please have a little trust!" Flora denounces with much offense.

"Why wouldn't you? You could do whatever you want and make me look like an idiot."

"Oh, that's what you mean?" Flora laughs at this very much amused now, "Now as much as I would love to seek revenge against you for today, I am not going to purposely give you a terrible cut. I don't do anything less than best."

"That's reassuring," Clive satires, trying to mask his worry.

"You seem to be forgetting I would be forced to look at you everyday if I did."

"That's a good point..." He tries to cooperate now that she has assured his hairstyle would not be completely butchered when all this was over. He finds it much too unnerving to sit still when so much tension floated around in their close proximity. Even when she barks at him to quit fidgeting. He genuinely does try his best not to cringe every time he hears the scissors make another snip.

"Can I ask you a question, Clive?" Flora asks him calmly.

He immediately becomes wary, unsure of whatever it is she wishes to know; about him nonetheless. But the question does distract him from the current terror, "Sure. I guess."

A gentle touch smooths his collar down and takes hold of the cloth, "Just how did you get a rip here?"

"Oh... I have no idea. It might have been years ago when... Well you know. My guess is it was torn then."

"This shirt is 10 years old!?" Flora gawks at him.

"Couldn't you tell? I mean look at it." Along with the damaged collar it is missing the bottom button, the sleeves are rolled up to his elbows because they were so stained from factory dirt.

Flora studies his dingy, white shirt fiercely discontent with this, "No no, this won't do," she whispers to herself.

He now focuses on the chill breeze that is bringing a transition into the new season to take his mind off of the snips of hair fluttering to the ground like snowfall. The beautiful flowers are impossible perky. The vibrant colors looked like the peak of spring; not the tones of fall. Clive absorbs the tranquility of this luxurious paradise with every deep breath, "I like to be outside. Especially here."

Flora stops snipping her scissors, "Do you?"

"I think this is actually my favorite place to be. Whether it is a nice day or not doesn't even matter. It's so beautiful."

"I'm glad you enjoy it," Flora says with earnest.

"How many hours of work does your family put into this?"

"It's just me," Flora informs him, "And it's not work if it is something you love."

Clive's eyes widen considerably as he takes in just how many plants and flowers and shrubs and trees there were in this outdoor sanctuary. "You certainly have a green thumb then," Clive clears his throat for a lack of a better idiom, "How... H-how do you do it?"

"Oh this is nothing," Flora dismisses, "Matthew and I had a much bigger garden at the manor. The professor always loved his garden. We used to tend it together. It is getting to be hard for him to help me maintain now though."

"That's a shame," Clive says, acknowledging the remorse, "But what about you? Like you said, you are busy enough as it is."

"I make time."

"You didn't today."

"Actually... I did," Flora laughs once, "I tended to them first thing this morning... I personally believe it is the most beautiful scene... to see my garden just after the sun has risen."

Clive turns his face to her in what he later decides is awe. She quickly moves his head back where it was before so that she could resume with her task. Even so, he can't shake the feeling that this is a whole new side of her he is seeing.

* * *

_Uh oh. They are starting to get cute... ^^ __Or maybe they aren't. They still fight a lot...but it is less? Or more... (what is happening anymore?) _

_But ok ok, what I really love is that they both did something nice for each other. :3 awwwwww. I mean I could have left it off at Clive just making the pancakes, but that felt servant-y and I didn't like that. Flora doing something nice in return is just what a relationship should be ok. _

_No one should be under the other or cater to the others whim. It's not about one's self, it's about the other person. People should both give the same amount. Finding someone you love isn't about finding someone to keep you happy every second of your life. It's about putting aside your own desires for that other person. (One of my many philosophies on love. I hate the lovey dovey crap where no one ever gets mad at their significant other and they are just perfect for no reason.)_

_Do keep in mind that Clive really wasn't ok at the beginning of this chapter. (That I decided to combine into one again. I decided that a super long chapter would be better because this is the 10th chapter of 10 years. It's extra special that way.) _


	11. Chapter 11

_Sorry for the coding. That's not too exciting to read. Have an actual chapter now. Thank you TeaLeaf for pointing that out._

* * *

"Ready?" Flora flips over the mirror to show Clive his finished haircut. His eyes widen when he sees the new appearance. For a while he stares at his reflection. She worries that perhaps it is too short now for his liking.

He dares to tentatively run a hand through his hair and then he turns his head side to side, simply observing. He finally gives a dazzling grin, "Wow. It looks great, Flora."

"Do you really like it? Or are you just saying that?" Flora wonders.

"No, I really do," Clive smiles as he continues to admire her wonderful handiwork in the small, round mirror.

He does seem to mean it. She at least feels she is starting to know when Clive was being truthful or not. Flora must admit this new haircut is a much more handsome fit for him.

"Well, thanks again," He rubs a hand through his hair with a nervous chuckle.

"It's nothing really," she dismisses immediately, but is a little flattered anyway.

She starts to pack up the supplies into the small grooming pouch, putting every tool back in its rightful place. Clive rests with his arms on the back of his chair watching her do this. Admittedly, this makes her a bit uncomfortable.

"Why don't you go show Alfendi?" Flora suggests, trying to avoid his eye contact, "You really don't have to wait on me."

"Oh," Clive snaps out of his deep of thinking, "Right... Sorry." He picks up his chair and carries it on his shoulder without another word.

Flora rolls her eyes at this apology. 'What is he even apologizing for? This is almost a reflex for him every time he speaks.'

She takes the small handle on her pouch with both hands and timidly peeks through the back door to the kitchen. Alfendi is throwing a fistful of brittle spaghetti noodles into a pot of boiling water when Clive returns. He does not even glance back to see who he is talking to when Clive goes over to see what it is her brother is preparing, "Hey Flora? Where do we have tomato sauce?"

Clive taps him on the shoulder. Only then does Alfendi glances up to see who it is. He gasps at him. Clive laughs before he finally asks, "What do you think, Al?"

Alfendi's mouth drops in astonishment, "Woah! Clive! You look so different!"

Clive is ambushed by him hopping onto his back for a piggy-back ride so that he may touch his new hairdo, but the worn material of Clive's collar rips halfway off in Alfendi's hand. Flora rushes to catch him before he can fall, but there is no possible way she can reach him. Clive quickly grabs onto her brother's arm and gains a firm grip onto the table to keep them balanced.

"A warning would be great next time buddy," Clive barks at him, but with a hint of good humor.

Alfendi laughs and continues to touch his new trim. Clive shakes his head to complain about him messing it up, but the now loose strand of fabric at his neck slaps his cheek and shuts him up. Her brother only giggles all the more thoroughly.

Flora cannot seem to take her eye off of these two. Just what is this… brotherly bond? She frantically begins a search for a can of tomato in her current, anxious confusion. It seems; however, that their supply of tomato or alfredo or any sauce has run out. Her mouth is as dry as the bare shelf at the shock of not having any words to oppose this unlikely friendship.

"You don't even look like the same person!" Alfendi exclaims. He is still so shocked by what a meager haircut has done to transform his appearance.

"I'm a new man," Clive tells him humbly while he sneaks a wink in Flora's direction, "I think a certain change could spark another, don't you?"

Alfendi immediately agrees, "Yeah!"

"Hmph," Flora clears her throat, "A haircut may change a man on the outside, but it has nothing to do with the man himself."

Clive ignores her rudeness with as much grace as anyone could muster, "Maybe I would change if people would let me."

Alfendi rolls his eyes at her as well, "Yeah Flora."

Flora holds her tongue of a counter comeback she could not seem to conjure. It would be unnecessarily rude to nag it on anyway so she decides to acknowledge the minor problem at hand first, "Alfendi, I think we're out of tomato sauce for your pasta."

"WHAAAT! "Alfendi gapes at her as if the world has ended. He rushes past her to see for himself, "But we can't be! My noodles will go to waste!"

"We can still eat them," Flora tells him, trying to calm him down.

"Are you mad woman!? It needs something to go with it!" Alfendi rages. He pushes her out of the way and starts climbing the shelves to search himself.

"Alfendi! Be careful!"

"Let me look! I'll find something!"

"Get down from there before you hurt yourself!" Flora asserts.

"Pfft. Alright mom," Alfendi jumps down with a can of something. The label is covered by his hands purposely to hide what it is.

"That was uncalled for and you know it. You could have asked me to reach that for you."

"Would you let me cook already? Shoo shoo." Flora crosses her arms as Alfendi pushes her, trying to force her out. She holds her ground despite his impatient shoves.

"Alright. I'll watch from here!" She relents and gives a much stronger push back to his unattended pot on the stove. Clive sits in his chair so that his front is facing the back of the chair and his arms have a firm place to rest. She seats herself at the table, holding her head with one hand so that she can keep an eye on her brother and so that she is turned away from her vile enemy.

She was trying to ignore him, but he made that impossible. He had been trying not to look at her as well. However, he does takes one glance to the side at her and when he does he suddenly snorts a laugh so rude he has to cover his mouth to hold back his laughter.

How could she not turn to confront him? Of course she is offended, but even more so at how little restraint he has against this uncontrolled laughter. He could at least have the decency to try and cover it up with a cough instead of laughing directly at her!

"What is your problem!" Flora demands.

"It's nothing," he says, though he is still giggling at the sight of her. In fact, the harsher her glare, the bigger his infuriating grin becomes.

"We both know that isn't true!" She retorts, "Fess up!"

"It's just... what Alfendi said. I finally see it," Clive laughs.

"See it?' She has absolutely no idea to what he is referring, "See what?"

Alfendi is lost as well, "Noodles?"

"You are such a mom!" he snickers at last.

"What! A mom!" Flora echoes.

"You are!"

"No I'm not!"

"But you act like one," he teases, "That's why you are so stern and meticulous and over protective."

"And bossy!" Alfendi inputs.

"I am none of those things," Flora declares, but a blush creeps up on her when they give her a look of skepticism.

"Right, because that wouldn't explain how you are always maintaining this house and hovering over Alfendi."

"That-that is not true!" Flora exclaims.

"Isn't it?" Clive questions.

"No it's not!" Flora decides, ignoring his irrational comments.

That is not how she sees herself at all. Sure, her entire life has been spent taking care of others before herself, the way she took care of her mother and then her father. Now she had the professor and Alfendi to worry for. They meant everything to her.

"What is so wrong about trying to take care of my family?" Flora murmurs quietly.

"Nothing at all," Clive tells her, "I'm just saying I finally understand it."

He is not mocking her anymore. She lifts her gaze to see he is actually serious, "You do?"

"Yeah Flora," Alfendi butts in between them suddenly, a spoon still in his hand. "We didn't say it's a bad thing. I mean it's a little annoying-" Clive jabs him in the ribs with a firm poke to push him away, "Hey! What was that for-"

"-It's nothing to be ashamed of," Clive assures her truly, "Family is something one should cherish. So many take it for granted. You always think they will be there..."

Flora's stomach drops when he doesn't finish his sentence, "But what?"

"They aren't always going to be around."

"You mean… they might not," she corrects him.

He shrugs, " It depends.

Flora dips her head in remorse, considering her losses already. It is not like that for every family, not hers anyway. Yet, she clasps her hands tightly and rests them on her lap. She is unable to look him in the eye, focusing instead on his ridiculous collar that is only half attached to his shirt, "Right."

Clive brings plates and silverware to the table and sets it for three with one plate to the side for the professor. All the while, Flora cannot seem to stop looking up at him because he almost seems... human; not evil. Clive dares to smile a devilish grin at her and she drops her gaze to her hands still in her lap.

Dinner turns out better than expected. Typical spaghetti and meatballs is replaced with a sauce that somehow compliments the meat and noodles better than tomato. It is cheesy and creamy yet delightfully seasoned.

Flora remains silent and takes a tidy spool of spaghetti to her lips. Alfendi appears to be trying to eat a waterfall of noodles while Clive takes the liberty of using a knife to cut down some of this tangled catastrophe. All the while Clive and Alfendi chatter on lightheartedly.

"Hasn't anyone taught you how to eat like a gentleman in this household?"

"Of course they have," Alfendi sneers. He pushes Clive's utensils back to his own plate. "But my way is tastier!"

Her brother proceeds to take a giant chomp of gooey cheese and pasta. He smirks at Alfendi and rolls a small amount of noodles onto his own fork.

Clive takes a timid bite, not certain of what he is about to consume. However, once he swallows his eyebrows raise in surprise, "Wow, this is really good, Al."

"Thanks!"

"Please tell me you are going to be a chef when you grow up."

Alfendi shakes his head, "Nope!"

Clive's fork stops mid-twirl, "I guess I had better savor every bite while I can then."

"You can always have seconds," Alfendi reminds him.

Clive takes advantage of that offer completely. He actually has a third, and then a fourth plate of noodles. One should not be able to eat half a pot of pasta on his own. Flora cannot help but gawk at how much food he stomachs because this could have easily been two meals. There may not be any leftovers for tomorrow, but at least it makes for an easier clean up. Alfendi scrubs at the pans and plates furiously while Clive dries them with a towel. He hands each dish to Flora to put away in the cabinets and drawers.

By working together the task is accomplished in a jiffy and Alfendi soon seats himself on the carpet in front of the glow of the television. Clive lies on his stomach beside him, propping his chin atop his hands up to the screen. Flora chooses a chair a proper distance away from the TV to watch the program and to continue observing. She wonders why they would ignore the furniture in favor of the floor until the commercials come on. Alfendi would roll on his back and poke Clive out of boredom until he could rile him up. Clive would away away the hand in annoyance and keeps his eyes ahead though he is not interested in a new vacuum that is being advertised. Alfendi would then suggest some sort of activity in order to figure out who was tougher and manliest of all, like arm wrestling or a push up contest. The contest would end the second the program returned and they would laugh and once again return to a comfortable place to blankly stare at the action they were missing.

Flora could not believe that this side of Alfendi existed. This side that was playful and friendly towards others. Her brother never played with the kids in the neighborhood or invited anyone from school to their home. He keeps to himself besides when he is with Flora. It is alright to rely on each other, but for the longest time she has been worried about him not having anyone else to confide in. Now Clive was compromising their relationship and yet Flora cannot deny how happy Alfendi is when he is around.

The best thank you she can muster she takes from her room and decides to donate to Clive. She remains silent when she taps his shoulder to get his attention.

He looks up with surprise to see she is holding something behind her back, "Can I help you, miss?"

"Here," Flora rashly presents him with a neatly folded shirt, "This should be more suitable than what you are wearing."

Instead of being grateful, he strokes the silky cotton of the new button down with a very nerved edge, "It's... blue."

"What's wrong with blue?" Alfendi asks him.

Clive gulps nervously, "Well. It's just that..."

Flora immediately understands the mistake in her assumption, "Oh! Luke likes blue! I didn't even realize that was-"

"-part of a disguise." Clive drops his head shamefully, "I-it's fine. I have no right to be picky." However, the color seems to still bother him more than it should.

"I have plenty of other options. How about you pick something that you like then," She offers.

"What do you have?" Clive wonders with curious interest.

"Oh anything! Everything!" She tells him, becoming more than excited to find this ideal new wardrobe to suit him with, "Come with me, I'll show you."

Flora leads the way and he follows her until she enters her room. He stands outside seeming very conflicted. Only then does she remember she had told him to never go near her room. "Oh come on now, don't be shy," she says as she pats the seat of a small stool for him.

He sits and turns on the swiveling seat beneath him, keeping his eyes down. She studies her subject's lack of confidence and drab rags, circling him like a vulture. The only difference is she is more merciful to her prey. For once she truly wishes to help him.

"Ok, so let's start fresh. Blue is out of the question. What color do you like then?" Flora requests.

When he does not answer she assumes he is being stubborn. She keeps prompting him and even names off the color choices, but he shrugs uselessly.

"Flora," Finally he tells her, "I don't even know who I am. I couldn't tell you if I had a favorite color. I don't really care."

Flora considers this somberly, "Do you mean to tell me you've never had a favorite color. Not once?"

"I haven't had much consistency in my life," he sighs.

Flora considers this, knowing a little of his past with the death of his parents and then the death of Constance. It certainly is hard to adapt to a new home even once like she had. She cannot imagine having to go through this twice and in the end being left with no one. She supposes Cog and Spring must have still cared for him, but now... only the Layton's would. She tries to dig deeper into something he must have said before. There has to be something he loves regardless of any of his tragedies. She suddenly recalls what he said about the garden in the backyard.

"Perhaps you like green," Flora suggests, "You like nature right?"

"I do. I prefer being somewhere calm and serene," he admits, "I usually only find that when I am outside."

"Great! That's it then!" Flora is nearly oblivious to him as she rummages around for some potential pieces to show him.

"I have really grown a loathing for the city," he rants, "Especially London. I would be better off anywhere other than here."

"Then why don't you leave?" Flora asks with genuine curiosity, not taking advantage of the opportunity to add an easy hint of hostility.

"I don't know where to go and I would have no way of getting there," Clive sighs, "If I did have the money to I would travel. I could have spent my inheritance on myself easily. I could have visited every country twice with that kind of money… I was such a fool."

"Muse about that later," Flora tosses him a crisp white shirt and a coat of deep green that would certainly look dashing, "Step into Alfendi's room and try this. Oh!" She tosses him a pair of brown pants not unlike the one he wore before, but that definitely seemed to suit him before, "Go go go!"

"Have some patience!" He begs of her. She shoves him out, eagerly awaiting to see him return.

He dressed as quickly as he could and stumbles into her room again wearing the new garments. Everything is perfect except for the too large shirt hanging out of his coat. He skipped a button in his haste, making it appear to be a lopsided pillow sheet draped over him.

"Alright, it needs some work," she considers as she rummages around for something a bit smaller. "It seems I was a bit off on my estimation." This is very puzzling because she is almost never wrong about what sizes are the most appropriate for an individual.

Flora glances at a few tones of green from a distance and compares them to Clive's skin tone. She finds a very lovely minty green that will suffice and extends it to him, "Try this."

Clive takes it in his hand and shrugs off the coat as he begins to depart to Alfendi's room again.

"Oh, it's just a shirt. You don't have to leave for that," she assures him, but a stricken pink colors his shocked face immediately, "I work with models remember? That doesn't faze me."

"Well as long as you aren't uncomfortable. I mean this isn't awkward at all." Clive mocks with a harsh edge, but it sounds as if he is the one particularly bothered by this.

He pulls the shirt over his head and puts on the other as quickly as he could so that she couldn't see his bare chest. The only trouble is he forgot to unbutton the top button and his head does not fit through. Flora desperately tries to suppress her laughter as his blind hands try to fiddle for the button. She comes to his aid to free him, still laughing at his expense, when she suddenly covers her mouth to suppress a horrified gasp. She remembers what she said about this not bothering her, but this is different. She is used to seeing healthy abdomens with firm muscle in photo shoots or on runways. She cannot believe, much less stomach, how many visible ribs there are under Clive's thin skin.

She unfastens that top button in a hurry. Clive quickly tucks in the shirt, covering up his awful skinniness, but in her mind she still knows.

"That's much better," Flora compliments him very sincerely. She clears her throat nervously and rushes around to pretend like she is not thinking about this, "Look at this tie! You have to put it on!"

"I don't think that is necessary. I have no reason to get so dressed up," he points out.

"I just want to see it!" Flora insists. She throws the gray cloth with it's elegant, diagonal, silver stripes over his neck, leaving him no choice but to tie it. He shakes his head, but tightens the triangular knot to his neck. It completes his outfit just as she thought it would and a certain glow appears to shine off of him when he takes a look for himself, making it clear he fancies it very much.

"What did I tell you?" Flora teases, "Spiffy isn't it?"

"Alright, alright, I do like it," Clive humors her with a wide grin. "You really do love this, don't you?"

"This is my passion, you silly goose!" she winks, "I'm going to make the world beautiful, one stitch at a time!" she announces for the entire world to know.

"Thank you for not excluding me in accomplishing that dream," Clive jokes with her graciously.

"It was my pleasure."

"Your pleasure? You have extended two very kind gestures towards me today. I have to ask... Are you sure you are feeling alright?" He asks her with a teasing smile, but genuine concern.

"Oh please," his fake sympathy is dismissed with a wave of her hand and she crosses her arms sternly, "Believe it or not it is pretty exhausting being so unbearable towards you."

"So what you just gave up?" He wonders rather dubious of this, "Were my pancakes that delicious?"

"It wasn't pancakes..." she sighs deciding he did need the reasoning in order to understand that this is not out of the kindness of her heart, "This is for being friends with Alfendi."

"Oh," Clive says in surprise, completely caught off guard, "Why… is this a big deal then?"

"I know he isn't always easy to get along with, but he really does look up to you."

He nods at this, "Right... well I try my best to be a good influence."

Her twisted words come back to her with a small stab of guilt, "I appreciate that," she musters.

"That little nuisance really has grown on me," He ponders aloud, "At first I thought he was annoying. Kids are just so hyper, but they want to be listened to and taken seriously like anyone else. He has a lot to say; I enjoy listening to him. It reminds me of a time when life was bearable and happy."

She blinks at this hardly able to believe these words are coming from him. 'From Clive?' Impossible she would have said or inconceivable. 'What scam is this apart of now?' But she had heard them and somehow she could not shake them off as false. Not from what she had witnessed of this friendship he had described.

I understand why maybe you don't believe that I'm being genuine; it's hard to explain. It's just a nice change, to not be treated poorly by someone who knows what I've done. It isn't just a child's naivety either. The more I get to know him I can tell he is a smart kid and he has a good heart. It just takes a bit to chisel that away and see that part of him."

"He's something alright," Flora acknowledges with motherly fondness, "I'm glad I'm not the only one who sees it then."

"CLIIIIVE!" Alfendi suddenly exclaims as he comes running into her room and pounces on to her bed with a roll and flopping to the ground all in one fluid motion. He resurfaces again back into view and adds, "Nice clothes! Come quick, on the TV there's a new movie about a guy who is a fugitive and the cop-"

"-Out! Out! Out!" She interrupts his summary and suddenly becomes a sister again as she tries to chase him out of her room, "Get out before you break something!"

"That was one time!" He lies.

"Seven! It was seven different times!" She captures her own little fugitive and escorts him away from anything fragile or expensive. She boots him out with a slam of the door, but then she turns and realizes Clive is still here. She sheepishly opens it again to let him out so that the boys may enjoy that detective movie.

"Something alright," Clive tries not to smirk as he walks out, but even she has to smile.


	12. Chapter 12

Alfendi prods Clive's cheek a few times trying to decide if he is really sleeping or just pretending. Sometimes he does that.

Alfendi knows he has been a nuisance lately, but maybe he would bother him less if Clive would just play with him more. Clive would struggle to stay awake anymore and would nod off in the middle of bored games while waiting for his turn. He could never finish any of Alfendi's favorite movies anymore. He is always so exhausted like this; his nocturnal lifestyle really takes a toll on him.

But the lonely boy really needs his attention, "Clive are you awake?"

The tired man turns over onto his side so that he faces the back cushions of the couch instead of the boy because he wishes to remain in slumber.

"I know you're awake," Alfendi states, now confident that he is faking.

"How can I not be?" Clive grumbles.

"Come on Clive can we play?"

"Have I had six hours of sleep yet?"

"No."

"Then no."

Alfendi pouts pitifully, "But I go back to school tomorrow." He sighs, wishing it wasn't so.

Clive is still very groggy, but he does sit up on the couch, but he only asks him very tiredly, "What's on your mind?"

"I just thought we would get to play more while I was out of school. I don't want to sit in class all day and fend for myself against the bullies."

"It won't be so bad. It's a new start, you at least have to give it a chance."

Alfendi shakes his head, "i don't want to go at all! It's gonna be the same. It's always the same."

"Not this year," Clive yawns without any reasoning as to why, but instead he offers a small bribe, "I'll make you breakfast before you go tomorrow. Whatever you want."

Alfendi's face lights up, "I just like eggs and toast with Earl Grey," he tells him, "Oh! And sausage! And bacon!"

"If it's in stock then it will be served," He strokes Alfendi's hair once before slipping back into his pillow. Alfendi waits, but a few minutes later he is breathing softly with sleep. Alfendi sighs and turns to the tele to entertain him with a mind numbing rerun until Clive could stay awake long enough to be fun.

'There has to be a reason for his strange behavior,' Alfendi decides, 'He wasn't like this before.'

* * *

The next morning Clive fulfills his promise completely.

Alfendi is met with an impressive smorgasbord on his platter, but every gulp he makes lands with a very uncomfortable plop in his uneasy stomach. Would he know anyone from last year in his new class? Would they remember him?

Flora glides in as if in a daze still rubbing her sleepy eyes. She is dressed in a pale nightgown; her unruly curls cascading beautifully behind her shoulders.

"Flora what are you doing up?" It is rather strange for her to be here because she didn't have to leave until eight thirty for work. It isn't even seven a.m.

"I-" she cuts herself off with a yawn, reaching blindly for the coffee pot. She nearly drops it when she picks it up because it has already been filled with a fresh brew.

Clive effortlessly takes a mug from a cabinet above him despite his task of frying eggs and slides it across the counter to her. "Well good morning cherie," Clive grins looking over one shoulder to see another hungry family member in his midst.

"Good morning," She greets him in a small voice.

"Would you care to join us as well?" He invites, extending the invitation to three. She does not reply with any words, but Flora does take two plates from the cabinet. Alfendi's jaw drops involuntarily and Earl Grey drips out of his mouth and back in his cup when she actually sits down to be with both of them. Clive scoops an egg on to their each of their plates and sits down between them.

Then things get really weird: Flora and Clive actually speak to one another... Without screaming or insults or threats. They just talk like two boring adults.

"How was work last night, Clive?" Flora asks him.

"Oh... The same as always," Suddenly he seems to remember something and he pulls something out of his pocket, "Hey Al, I got you something."

Alfendi reaches out greedily to see what Clive has brought him today. At Clive's job he assembled various kinds of toys, but sometimes a few made it to the reject pile for a poor paint job or something silly like that. This time it is a small red automobile with a yellow splatter of paint across the hood.

"Cool! Thanks Clive. No other kid will have a car like this!"

But Clive does not hear this because he is already mid-conversation with Flora. She tells him of a client she is designing a one of a kind wedding gown for and he seems to actually be absorbed I listening to her fluffy drabble. Alfendi can't believe what he is witnessing. He starts shoveling down his breakfast absentmindedly, totally in awe of this bizarre spectacle, until he suddenly chokes on a bite of crispy bacon.

"Alfendi! Are you alright?" Flora pats his back firmly and Clive quickly pours him more tea to wash down the small shard of meat that had caught in his throat.

"Fine. I'm fine! I-I have to go to school," he grabs his backpack and deserts them immediately. He slams the door to be sure to inform them he has left, but then he sneaks about the house and nudge the window up an inch to eavesdrop.

"That was really strange," Flora murmurs to herself, "Did I miss something?"

"He was just nervous about school today," Clive assures her.

Flora becomes very quiet and Clive doesn't say anything more. The only sound he hears for awhile is the clanking of cups on the table every time they took a quiet sip.

"This is quite a breakfast you prepared again," Flora comments.

"I made it for Alfendi. It's just coincidence you happened to wake up in time to pilfer a small helping for yourself."

"A girl needs her beauty sleep," she teases, "I sacrificed it this time," she giggles heartily.

"You need beauty sleep?" He laughs at her for this, "That's nonsense and you know it."

"Well thank you for brewing my coffee for me," she mentions a little warily, "That was thoughtful."

He hesitates a moment before answering. Alfendi assumes Clive must have offered a usual shrug in response, "It was nothing."

Alfendi steps away in disbelief. What is happening with them? Could they... actually be friends now?

He ponders this when he mounts his bike, when he steps into his school, and all the way to his desk. He is so lost in thought he hardly notices the very pretty, blond girl who takes a seat in front of him.

All the other boys have already taken notice. Her gorgeous long blond hair is certainly eye-catching, but what may be more so is her ice blue eyes. Nearly every boy who is in her class today has already developed a small crush on the new girl.

The teacher brings the class, to attention for attendance and then starts off with their classroom procedures and rules. He turns to the chalkboard to discuss each generic and simple point of common sense.

Alfendi takes out his new car from his pocket and rolls it a few times in his boredom. Then he takes one of his pencils to doodle his subject. He gets pretty far when the girl turns in her seat to watch, which makes him slightly uncomfortable.

"Are you an artist?" She whispers to him.

He does not glance away when he answers, "No."

"But you're drawing," she tells him.

"I know that," he chides, "But it's not good."

"Do you like to draw?"

"No," he replies curtly.

"Oh, well that's a shame. My old best friend used to draw. I thought we could be friends too."

"I don't want to be friends with a girl," he rudely tells her.

She raises her voice without thinking of the consequence, "I beg your pardon!"

The teacher quickly becomes aware of their squabble, "Alfendi, Hilda, is there a problem?"

They continue to scowl at one another, but they both answer with a forlorn no. They become very quiet again, Alfendi returning to his doodle and Hilda paying perfect attention to their teacher like a teacher's pet.

Hilda flips her long waterfall hair over her shoulder and it spills all across the surface of Alfendi's desk. Alfendi grits his teeth and growls before pulling his notebook to the end of his table so that he can have some peace, but a long lock of gold gets caught in the metal spiral.

"Ow!" Hilda yelps.

"That is enough you two!" The teacher rebukes them for all the class to hear, "You can both stay in class ten minutes during recess."

"But he pulled my hair!"

"It was an accident!"

"If you continue to pester one another you can stay in the full thirty minutes," their teacher threatens.

Their mouths hang open in astonishment. On the first day they are already being severely punished. This fuels a strong hatred in Alfendi for this little blond girl. He stares at the back at her head for their time of sentencing wishing he had laser vision. It is the ten longest minutes of his entire life.

When he is released he finally parts ways from her for the first time that day. Besides class they sit at the same table for lunch because they are alphabetically close in proximity according to their last name seating arrangement. He has had just about enough of Hilda Pertinax got today or any other day for that matter!

He steps outside and into the warm sunshine. Hilda runs off to go play in a double dutch game for girls. As for his recess, he decides he will lie on the metal slide and bask in the glorious warmth. All is perfect on his isolated, curved island. He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath to finally relax. He rolls his car on the smooth surface, taking great pleasure from the sound of wheels zooming across the metal.

'It is so hard to be a kid sometimes,' he reflects. The thought hardly crosses his mind when two feet land on his head and push him into the dust.

"What is the big idea you chowderhead!" Alfendi explodes.

"Alnerdi! Alnerdi!" His bullies chant. Of course it was too good to be true. He has almost forgotten of these boys' existence because they are not in his class. This must be why they went to find him.

He grips his head with his hands, "Quit it! Leave me alone!" He screams at them.

"He can't even find someone to play with!" Charlie taunts.

"What a loser!" David laughs, though his statement is agricatingly redundant.

"I don't want to play with any of you!" Alfendi rages, "Go away! I wasn't bothering you!"

"You are wrong actually! We want this slide. It's ours now!" The leader George informs him.

"You can't do that!"

"Sure we can," George declares, "Right guys?" His comrades agree unanimously.

He knew they only wanted it because he had had it first. But like always he would have to give it up or fight for it. He is about to hypothetically roll up his short sleeves and get ready to defend his territory when Hilda appears from nowhere at the top of the ladder and gives the three a harsh push. They all try to stop themselves, but the last one lands in a heap in the shallow pit of dirt.

"Who wants to play on this dented heap of metal anyway!" Hilda suddenly intervenes for him. The boys suddenly shut right up at this confrontation with a girl.

"But it's cool," one of them finally argues without any actual reason to convince her she is wrong.

"Right. Let me know how much fun you have burning your bums sliding down that!" She laughs so rudely that she actually snorts once. She quickly composes herself and before Alfendi knows what is happening she jumps down to the ground and takes Alfendi's hand, "Let's go!"

"No! You let go!" Alfendi rages at her trying to pull away from the firm hand she has clamped onto his. He can't seem to break free, "Gaaaaah! Let go I mean it!"

"You act like you've never held a girl's hand before," she taunts him.

His cheeks flush a humiliating red, "Shut up!"

She only stops once they have escaped behind the big jungle gym, "Well then! Don't thank me or anything," she criticizes as she pushes him away. He tumbles into the metal bars and quickly climbs to the top of the fortress to get away from her.

"I'm not! I didn't need your help!" He insists, his fists clenched in resentment around the metal pipes.

"Fine then! I won't save you ever again!" She sticks out her tongue at him rudely from below him.

"Good!" He shouts down at her.

"Hmph!" The bell has rung so she takes off running back towards the school.

* * *

Clive is nowhere to be found when Alfendi returns home. With no one to vent to he hides in his room because he is so mortified. He could never go back to school again. He would be a laughing stock. He would never forgive her for this! With covers over his head and tears of humiliation stinging his eyes he chants over and over and over again: "I hate her! I hate Hilda Pertinax!"

It is a few hours later when someone finally finds him curled into a ball after he had tuckered himself out with all his hateful thinking. He wakes when he hears his door creak open, and can instinctively tell it is Flora because of the sound her dainty little footsteps make. She sits down delicately beside him on his bed and runs a soothing hand over his shoulder blades.

"Hey sleepy boy. How was school?"

"I don't want to talk about it," he grumbles pitifully..

"Why not?" A worried tone enters Flora's calm voice, "What happened?"

Alfendi clutches a pillow to his face in humiliation,"Today was without a doubt the worst day of my life!"

"Oh come now. It couldn't have been that bad," she tries to assure him.

"It was! This stupid girl got me in trouble! I didn't even do anything it was an accident! And then she got in the way and was poking her big nose in my business! She won't go away!"

"A girl?" Flora can tell she is smirking when she asks, "Does this girl have a name?"

"Well yeah, duh," Alfendi grumbles at her, "But it's a dumb one. Just like her."

Flora tries not to, but she can't help laughing, "You are one to talk Al-fen-di."

Alfendi growls at this and buries his face in his pillow trying to fight back the tears that are still forming in his eyes. Boys didn't cry in front of their sisters.

"What's going to make you feel better. Hmm?" Flora wonders.

He wipes his eyes off against his cotton pillow cover before he lifts his head up to make a suggestion with a pout still evident on his lip,"Pizza for dinner?"

"A special breakfast and pizza?" Flora giggles at him, "You just eat away those troubles don't you?" She tries to tickle his belly, but he squirms away from her and wraps himself deeper into his blankets until he is just a mound of fabric.

The sound of a car horn outside the house makes both of them jump. The blankets fall away as Alfendi sits straight up and Flora lets out a startled little squeak. They sit completely alert and sure enough a small beep sounds again.

"Who could that be?" Flora asks Alfendi.

"How should I know?" He throws his covers aside and flies down the stairs with Flora not far behind. Alfendi reaches the door first and opens it to see who it is. Flora stumbles a bit behind him and has to catch herself by leaning on his shoulder.

"Ah, Ms. Reinhold," Clive says in an oddly chivalrous tone. Alfendi tilts his head in confusion at this because he already lives here and this shouldn't be an arrival. He outstretches a hand to Flora, but she is as utterly confused as he is.

She immediately turns her gaze to Alfendi,"What's going on?"

"Please save all questions for the end," Clive interrupts her, "We wouldn't want to spoil the surprise."

"W-what surprise?" Flora stammers, "I don't like surprises."

He chuckles once and finally elaborates, but only to Alfendi whom he spoils the secret for.

"WHAT!" He exclaims, "No way! Are you serious!?"

"What is it?" Flora pleads with him, but Clive motions for him to stay quiet.

"Flora! You are going to love this! Come on!" He takes her hands as tries to take her to wherever this surprise could be.

"Wait Al! She has to close her eyes so we can lead the way."

"Close your eyes, Flora! You have to!"

"Ok…" she utters with a nervous tremor in her voice. Reluctantly, Flora squeezes her eyelids shut and allows for them to take her around the house and to the edge of the street. It is a bit difficult for her to walk in her tall shoes without her sight, but Alfendi and Clive hold her sturdily so that she cannot fall. Finally they stop in front of a small yellow vehicle that is parked behind dad's automobile. Dad himself stands in front of it whom quickly motions for Alfendi to join him at his side.

"Open your eyes, Flora," Alfendi tells her, letting go of her arm to be with Dad.

She peeks with one eye and then stares in wide-eyed bewilderment. Her fingers slip away from Clive's and she has to cover her gasp with both of her hands, "Is that?!"

Clive laughs at this and places his hand on her shoulder, "Why yes Flora, this is... your brand new car!" He announces with a showy gesture towards the perfect little vehicle.

"Oh my goodness!" She begins hopping and squealing with joy. She is clamping onto Clive's arm not having any idea who to look at, who to thank, or how to stop repeating the single phrase, "Oh my goodness!"

Dad smiles with a proud tilt of his hat, "I take it you like it?" He ventures to guess.

Flora flies into his arms and dad hugs her warmly, "I love it I love it!"

Flora had been goggling over that puny little car for ages. Dad knows she still had calculated that it would take another year until it would be hers. He must have contributed the remaining sum to help her out if she would be leaving before then.

"I always knew you were the favorite child," Alfendi comments sarcastically, but adds his arms to the existing hug.

"Come here favorite brother," Flora teases and bends down to give him a cute peck on the cheek to assure him she loves him too.

"Ew!" Alfendi cries, pulling away from the embrace, "Flora you are so gross!"

"What about me? I helped too," Clive jests at being the odd one out, "Who do you think drove it here?"

Alfendi tilts his head in confusion, "You have a license?"

Guiltily, Clive scratches his head a bit shamefully, "At one time I did..."

Flora gapes at Dad and Clive for having driven her new vehicle here illegally, which makes Alfendi laugh all the more thoroughly, "You are the best brother ever!"

"Brother?" Flora echoes fearfully, almost as if she is choking on the word.

"Sure! Clive is family now! Right Dad?" His son's statement caught him off guard as well, but his top hat appears to dip down once in a nod.

"Wow," Clive whispers, "Thanks Al. I never knew you viewed me that way."

Flora tentatively bites her lip at this, but because Clive is one of the Layton's now, according to her brother, "Thank you for your help today."

Knowing these grateful words were hard for her to give Clive hugs her with one arm before letting her go uncomfortably. Her cheeks burn red from the gesture and she quickly departs to the house becoming much to flustered to stay in this awkward circumstance.

Because Flora has somewhat approved of this new happening, Alfendi bro fists his new big brother and cheers, "Welcome to the family, Clive!"

* * *

...

...

...

_What have I done. o_o _

_It's so cute, but you see where this is going right?_

_New topic. Don't get me wrong I love Alfendi and Lucy... but Hilda alone is a great character. We all know they dated, but what if they had known each other much longer? I can't even get over it it's so cute. Hilda is so used to boys admiration and his rudeness drives her a little crazy. Then poor Alfendi xD He's so sensitive, that would be his placidness, but because he can't cope with it he just gets all mad. Oh my word I love it._


	13. Chapter 13

_Hey everyone. This month was crazy for me. I know it was longer than a month, but this is a long chapter. AND it's really good! (in my opinion anyway) I feel like this chapter was my stumbling block and from here I feel like i have direction again for the time being._

* * *

Last night... Last night is still stuck on Flora's mind like the sticky gunk gripping the bottom of her shoe. Currently, there is blue spearmint gum sticking to the ground with every step. Off the bus and losing time, she hurries into work with the stickiness on her sole still trying to slow her down with a pathetic resistance. Flora could not wait to stop riding the bus. That had been all she could talk about... Including last night.

The springy cord of the telephone she curled round and round her finger, an incognizant gesture of a flittering, young woman's mind. The other straight cord was pulled taut from being taken hostage away from it's stand in the hallway. She preferred privacy for her conversations because Alfendi could be particularly nosy.

"When will you be getting a license?" Fernando curiously wondered.

"Very, very soon," Flora gushed excitedly.

"_Fantastico_!" Fernando's voice praised her.

"Oh! I cannot wait! I never had the opportunity to drive when I was younger... But all my months of driving will put me into the driver's seat of my new vehicle! Now I won't have to bum rides off of you anymore!" Flora teased him.

Fernando did not catch on to her playful manner, but answers seriously, "I did not mind. I just like you to be with me."

"Oh..."

Their rides home and their lunches was the only time they had together recently. Work had been crazy for both of them over the months of fall. A new season meant a new fashion line of clothes to complete for everyone. But she personally needed to get out of her own house and make more time for her love life. Her career so easily ate up all her time without her realizing it, "I really miss seeing you. We ought to plan something soon."

"Would you like to go to dinner?" He suggested.

"Of course! And I can count on you to escort me to the big announcement, correct?" She was referring to the grand company event next month. There they would be announcing to everyone who would be designated to the great, big, substantial, impressive, monumental promotion. She could hardly wait.

"Of course dear. I shall leave my heart with you until then," he told her.

Flora yawned once, "You're too sweet, love, but it's getting awfully late. Tomorrow then."

"Sleep well my flower," he wished her dreamily.

"Ahem," Clive's soft clear of the throat made Flora sit straight up on her quilt. She dropped the phone on the fabric like a guilty culprit only to realize she had done nothing wrong.

"You are late for your lesson," he told her from the silent doorway that had not alerted her of a visitor.

"Goodnight. Love you," she said, before hanging up in a suspiciously abrupt manner. Clive laughs under his breath at how flustered she is, but how was she supposed to react when another's man came to interrupt a lovely conversation?

"I was coming!" She insisted as she scoops up the phone in her arms to return to its rightful place.

"Oh I believe you," he said, taking this as an invitation to come in. He seats himself on her sewing stool and begins to flip to a few pages he has bookmarked.

"I really didn't forget about you, honest," she tried to defend again as she sits properly on the edge of her bed.

"No, I understand. I know I don't rank as high as Fernando."

Color flushed across her cheeks to even hear Clive say her boyfriend's name. She tried to avoid any discussion that led to the use of both their names because it isn't like that at all! Clive was a tutor; Fernando her boyfriend. Why was this so hard for people to distinguish?

"Are you ready?"

Flora snapped out of her conflicted thoughts, "Yes!"

"Alright then, I will quiz you on the new vocabulary," he warned teasingly, "How does one say..." Flora couldn't help giggling already. "What is so funny?"

She tried her hardest to keep a straight face, but the truth is she already knew that whatever is about to come out of his mouth was going to be absurd, peculiar, or delightfully silly. Of course, the examples written in the instructional book were already decided, but when coming from him he somehow made it hilariously cheesy.

"Nothing," But she lifted a hand up to her neck to cover the peculiar mark that is clearly showing as she giggled some more. He glanced back at her before finishing his statement that she would repeat.

He read the words with much emphasis on his perfected French persona with the accent that made her crack up though she tried not to show it, "...Five dogs are chasing six cats."

"This is ridiculous. I won't need to say that," Flora responded with very practical reasoning.

"Who's the teacher here?" Clive scrutinized with stern eyes peering over his instruction manual, "Feel free to return that answer in French for bonus points."

"_Vous_," she gestured with feigned politeness and acknowledgment.

"That's right, that would be _moi_." He grinned, "Now answer my previously stated question," Clive persisted and she rolls her eyes at the simple statement.

"_Cinq chiens-chassent-six chats_!" She slurred the similar sounding beginnings together in her rush to answer. "Wait... _Cinq chines...chassent_... Hey don't laugh at me!"

He clicked his tongue in a mock disapproval, "You might want to work on that pronunciation..."

"This isn't a fair phrase you've given me!"

"Too difficult is it?" Her tutor couldn't help being amused thoroughly by her struggle to say the tricky tongue twister, "I thought you needed something a bit more challenging. We've only been studying a short while and none of this is stumping you."

"Well I am not cheating if that's what you are suggesting. Just simply reading ahead. What can I say? I learn fast," she winked. A habit she unconsciously picked up from the professor whenever she wished to be charming.

"It must have been necessary in your work to adapt quickly," Clive guessed. Correctly, she might add.

"More like my lifestyle..." Flora mumbled to herself.

Instead of prying about her sudden change in tone, he offered a small reassurance, "You aren't the only one who feels that way." He raised his hand like a schoolboy with a question, but Flora considered it to be more like admittance to the Always Alone Club. She had thought she was the only member.

"We are getting off track again," Flora told him before any more distractions arose. They could go whole nights talking about anything, but French dialogue. The tiredness of repetitive lessons every night prompted both of them to procrastinate easily and they both knew it.

"You are absolutely right, Miss Reinhold," he agreed, "It isn't often that we are able to carry on a lesson without an interruption from others."

Her mouth twinged down in annoyance, "Clive, why are you calling me that? What's this Ms. Reinhold business?"

"It is more formal for this setting," he explains. Flora looked at him very funny for this. He was truly taking on his role as teacher, but why did he care?

"What is formal about this? You live here," she pointed out, "This whole setting is informal.

He dropped his eyes shamefully, "I just thought it to be more respectful. Whenever I would call you by your name you wouldn't listen to what I had to say. I didn't know if it was alright. I just always seem to be crossing your boundaries."

"Oh," she murmured, "Umm, well... For the sake of simplicity feel free to call me Flora please."

"Flora?" Clive tested out uncertainly, "Why won't you forgive me?"

Flora gazed back at the sad eyes that had tried to apologize to her before. The ones she had so rudely been ignoring, "I just... can't."

"What do I have to do? I just want to make things right," he placed the small manual on his warm seat as he knelt with humbleness and clasped his hands as if in prayer. His anguish was that fierce. "Do I have to beg for it? Flora I will do anything."

"No no. Please no." The entire action only demeaned him, which makes her sadder for him, "I wouldn't want you to do that. Clive, it's complicated. You can't expect to fix what you've done so simply."

His forlorn head fell down and he brought his legs out from beneath him to intercross in a tight triangle. "But I'm trying."

Flora crossed her arms at his miserable display, but her heart focused on the eyes that she has learned to read so well. Even after he had expressed so much vulnerability she still felt a need to protect herself from another ruse.

"There isn't an easy solution. You really hurt me!" Flora defended. She swallowed once before softening her tone, "If I find an answer I'll be sure to inform you."

He nodded with his eyes still locked on the floor and a slump in his shoulders and Flora felt pity for him all the more.

'How could I let him leave like that?'

Last night was still so shocking to her. And she still feels so awful; she would admit that. So Clive truly is trying to be good and really does want to right his wrongs. And he really is trying to be helpful. But could she really believe she thought this to be true? In her own mind it is starting to become a hassle to be unfriendly towards him, especially after all he has done for her. But what about what he has done to her? Like a fragment of a fallen leaf she can't decide if maybe he has changed enough to truly forgive.

'Of course not!' Her mind screams. 'How can I think that! How absurd! He's a scoundrel. Nothing more!'

It is suddenly mid-afternoon without Flora realizing half a work day has flown by while she has been deeply consumed in thought. Velvet hovers over their shared wall and plucks a fallen leaf from the curl in front of her eyes and peers down at her. She had not realized it had been there or she would have fixed her appearance herself.

"Is something the matter, hun?"

Flora had snapped the point of a pencil many minutes ago and had been staring at it blankly for much too long. She jams it into a sharpener long enough for it to turn into a tiny stub and brings it back down to her sketch along with her eyes.

"Anything I can help with?" She offers.

Flora stops her scribbling. She desperately feels a need to share a hint of her stress. If only a little. It was becoming a distraction, "Do you believe in second chances?"

Velvet scoffs, "I'm married. Jean needs more than second chances."

Flora mumbles sadly, not seeing this as helpful in her situation, "I guess that's not what I mean."

"Then what is it?"

"It's nothing." Flora insists, suddenly wishing to drop it.

"Nope," Velvet shakes her head, "I don't buy it. Something is going on. What did Fernando do?"

"...Fernando?" She quickly recovers and tries to cover up her bewilderment. Of course Velvet would assume she was upset about Fernando instead of Clive. Her cheeks burn intensely at such a mistake."It's really nothing! L-like I said!"

"Oh no, the first fight," Velvet assumes, "Tell me. What does your boo need to work on? What are his flaws? Hmmmm?"

"I don't know what you mean." Flora states, firmly crossing her arms.

"Girl..." She emphasizes her skepticism as much as Flora tries to sheiks it, "It's really no secret," Velvet fills her in.

Her confidence wavers when she mentions that comment about what she doesn't know. "W-what isn't a secret?"

"He had to turn down the last few lunch dates. You feel neglected. He isn't paying enough attention to you. Believe me I saw how that damaged your sweet smile. And all the while, Handsome is preoccupied with photo shoots with other models..."

"No, no, no," she says reasonably, "I'm really not jealous over that and I can assure you that Fernando only has eyes for me. If anything I have been neglecting him. We are both just so busy right now, but we've already made plans for tonight."

Velvet becomes quiet and maybe even a bit mystified at her certainty. Or perhaps, she is disappointed by a lack of gossip, "Then what is it?"

Flora tries to think of something suitable to excuse the situation. Only one thing came to mind really if she were to discuss a tiny issue, "I guess... It's just that..."

"Yes? Yes?" Velvet demands, becoming so close to unearthing the dirt.

"You know... My mark right? The little yellow one on my shoulder that shows up when I laugh?"

"Oh yeah yeah, the happy apple."

Velvet's nickname for it bewilders Flora, "... Right. I... Don't think he's noticed it. Or at least he's never said anything..." Flora begins pulling on a strand of hair sensitively. "Is that bad?"

Velvet begins to chuckle at her, "Is that all honey?"

She doesn't understand why this is so funny to her; she nods much like a shy school girl because this is really all she could think of.

"He's never seen it because you always cover up!" Velvet exclaims, "Show a little skin!"

Flora dips her head into the fall toned, crimson scarf around her neck, hoping to wash out the blush on her face with the much brighter color, "Oh... You're right, I usually do... I suppose that was silly of me."

"See? All is still perfect in Flor-nando-land!" She teases.

Flora turns away with a hand over her eyes, returning to a current work in progress sketch while she shields the embarrassing jab at her reserved personality. She is certain Velvet meant no harm by those words, but it bothers her. Especially as she gazes down at the high necklines she has sketched on her dresses.

'Am I... too modest?' Flora has to wonder.

She tugs on her silky scarf vulnerably before she carefully pulls it off and folds it like a cloth napkin as and puts it off to the side on the corner of her desk. This leaves her red earrings with dangling triangles as a brilliant focal point to her outfit. They become much more bold without another red accent like a sign directing the eyes to where a faint, golden apple sometimes appeared.

The end of the day came after many gradual, lagging hours. Fernando came over to her cubicle unannounced as usual, but she pretended not to be awaiting his arrival so that she may test out this theory.

"Hello flower," he greets her with a dazzling smile not unlike a warm spring day.

"Hello Ferny," she stands up from her chair and reaches to kiss both his cheeks, the way she soon would be greeting new friends in Paris, "I'm glad to see you! How was your day?"

"I arrived at work at 8:03 this morning. I had celery with peanut butter for breakfast, to save room for our _souper_," he hints as he takes her hand to escort her to said dinner.

As he drives them to the restaurant he continues to give a minute by minute recap of his entire schedule. Flora begins to wonder if she will ever get to tell him of her day, but then recalls her conversation with Velvet and prays he will forget to ask. She tries to stay attentive, but the longer he drones on in his Italian accent the more his words begin to sound like a lovely bedtime story. She awakens to a hand resting on her shoulder.

As she blinks away the sleep his finger slowly caresses her chin. "Did my stories bore you?" Fernando wonders with a curious brow lifted.

Her face suddenly gets hot and she is ashamed, "No no!" She quickly explains, though maybe his one sided description of the day was rather trivial, "I just tend to nod off in the car!"

"It matters not," he smiles with a heavenly gaze locked onto her, "Do you have any idea how beautiful you are when you are dreaming?" Flora dips her head at the very flattering words, "And you were speaking about apples. Golden ones," he chuckles in delight.

Suddenly stricken, Flora can hardly even stammer, "D-did I really?"

"There is no need to be embarrassed," Fernando consoles her though she clearly is, "We all dream of riches?"

Flora tilts her head, "Riches?"

"Is that not the reason one wishes for fame?" He asks.

"Not always," Flora could hardly care about the money, "I just love designing."

"But you wish to be successful, no?"

"Well yes," Flora admits.

"Then you will be rich and famous for sure my flower," he says as he plants a kiss on her cheek.

"...if you say so," though she begins to suspect they have two different definitions of success.

He does everything right on the date. He pulls out the chair like a gentleman for a lady. He selects a distinguished wine from the shelf and dedicates a toast to her and her future. And though she is taking delicate bites of their many courses she is really chowing down at this fine dining experience. He tells her she is beautiful so many times that it begins to lose all meaning.

Her eyes are beautiful. Her hair is beautiful. Her figure is beautiful. Her hands are beautiful. Her complexion is beautiful. Her blush is beautiful. Her makeup is beautiful. Did he say her hair is beautiful? Because it is particularly beautiful pulled back in a ponytail. Like a beautiful waterfall or a beautiful mane.

Flora very nearly wants to stab her two forks in her ears from hearing that word be said so many times in just one hour. And he is still missing her most unique feature of all...

"You are so quiet tonight," he finally notes.

"I just... Have a lot on my mind is all," she murmurs.

"Anything you would wish to discuss?" he asks politely.

"Actually yes..." Flora begins, "Do you remember what I said about the golden apples?"

"Yes dear," he says, "It was very... Cute."

'Thank goodness. He does know another word besides beautiful.' Flora clears her throat to rid her mind of the rude thought, "Well Ferny, it's actually-"

"-I am not fond of that nickname," Fernando interrupts, "My name is Fernando," he purrs in a way that adds a much more appealing flair.

"Right..." She acknowledges, "And my name is Flora, but you call me flower. They're nicknames. You have me one and so I gave you one too."

"I understand this, but I don't like mine. I like my real name," Fernando asserts.

"Well then," She decides, taking slight offense, "If you don't like it then I will call you Fernando and you can call me Flora."

"But the name I have given you reflects the beauty I see," he argues to his defense.

"Quit saying that! I'm more than a pretty face, Fernando!" She yells defiantly.

The surprise that crosses his face is completely shocked by her outburst at him, "Please do not shout flower. There is no reason," he assures her calmly as he takes her hand across the table to soothe her.

She pulls it away fiercely, "No! I don't think it's fair of you to tell me that what I come up with is stupid and what you say is ok!" She abruptly pushes her chair out from the table and storms away from him.

He sits in his chair, not even chasing after he as she runs off, "_Bella!_ You are not even going to wait for dessert?"

'Go eat a celery stick! And... some peanut butter too!' This comeback would have been perfect, but she does not speak it for fear that it would sound too cheesy. Though on the ride home she reflects on the moment and wishes she would have said it.

Flora phoned home to have the professor pick her up. He asked her if everything was alright, but Flora was still fuming and only got in the funny, red vehicle with a clear fury rising from her like steam. When they finally park outside their home Flora excuses herself to be alone before the Professor can ask what is wrong.

Pillows and blankets bury her away from the world as she weeps into the overly cozy comfort behind a closed door.

'Why are boys so dumb? Why do they treat me this way? I'm not just a pretty face! I'm not!'

It is days like these where she would rather not be beautiful so that people would actually look at her as more than just a cute girl. She has so much more to offer, yet no one seems to see it.

She falls asleep after crying a good cry in the same clothes she had worn the day before. She wakes up feeling damp from sweat after burying herself in such warm layers. She escapes them immediately to fetch a glass of water. Despite her lack of hydration tears still form in her eyes and stream down her face.

"I am more than what people see," She continues to whisper to herself and over again until she can believe it. She sniffles and wipes her nose after a nice cold sip.

"Is that so?" Clive asks from behind the half ajar window behind her.

The glass she holds slips from her hand, but with cat like reflexes she swipes it from the air before it can crash against the wooden floors. The water being its liquid form however does spill and create a small puddle on the ground.

"You really must stop startling me!" She rebukes him, "And it is impolite to eavesdrop!" She grips a hand to her heart and places the glass in the sink so that she may get a towel to dry the floor off with.

He still laughs easily at this from the window, "It is my specialty, didn't you know?" He unexpectedly ducks a moment to disappear before popping back up, "Boo!"

Flora giggles at this erratically because his silliness makes her forget she is in misery. The thought of her previous misery reminds her to keep a stern face again.

"Nope it didn't work," Clive ducks down again and jumps back up more quickly, "Grawr!"

"Oh my!" Flora feigns fright before bursting with more giggles.

"Much better!" Clive grins with pleasure.

"May I ask what you are doing out there?" Flora asks with genuine curiosity, "Aren't you cold?"

"I have a coat," he tells her, "Besides I like to watch the sunrise after work."

"That does sound nice," Flora murmurs.

"You can come see it too," he invites.

"Are you sure you don't mind?" Flora asks skeptically.

"It's your garden, Flora. I'm the one who should be asking that."

"Very true, but I can't prevent anyone from enjoying a sunrise," she points out.

"That is also true," he agrees.

"Give me a second. I'll need a jacket." She runs off to go retrieve a covering to shield her from the chill of morning and hurriedly throws it over her shoulders.

Clive sits on the stoop outside the door with his hands folded in front of him. "You're late. That was longer than a second."

"Oh hush!" She says with a roll of her eyes.

The cold morning air is a crisp and clean refreshment to her warm skin. It feels very fine to finally cool down. She enjoys it very much as she gazes at the lightening of the dark sky, "When will it come?"

"Any minute I would guess," he supposes, "Until then, would you care to tell me why you were crying?"

Flora turns her face away and lifts a hand to her cheek to hide her face, "I'd rather not."

"Alright then. I just thought I would ask," he says indifferently, turning his face as well to stare off into the distance with melodrama.

"Are you insulting me?" Flora demands.

"No I just noticed you were upset. Not that you believe I would care... and I don't just so we are clear," he asserts, seeming not o care one way or the other.

"Why would you ask if you didn't care?" Flora asks, not seeing this to be sensible.

"Always the clever one aren't you?" Clive sighs. He leans back to lay his back on the step, "Let's just forget I asked." They remain quiet for an immeasurable time, still staring at the slowly changing sky and the dark misty clouds.

"I cry too much," Flora admits, "I don't want to talk about it because I'll only cry more."

"Bottling up your frustrations isn't any better." He glances over with knowing eyes, "Believe me."

"I suppose," Flora considers, "I just never have been good with sharing my feelings."

"I used to try… no one would listen, and look what happened. I tried so hard to show everyone what Bill Hawks had done and he just kept scrapping me back under the mat like dust. I researched and wrote articles about the truth and would find myself in a coma a week or two later. I would go back to the newspapers in London and the editors would no longer let me in the door. The third time it happened the doctor told me I needed to stop getting involved in whatever it was I was in because if I took another beating like that I would surely die."

Flora's face pales considerably at is terrible story, "I-I'm so sorry. My problem is not nearly as severe."

"It still helps to get it off your chest," Clive insists, very willing to listen.

"I had a fight with Fernando and it was really just so absurd," she summarizes quickly, "I should just apologize."

"If you believe that is right," Clive advises.

"It is. It was... He doesn't like the nickname I call him by..."

"This I've got to hear," Clive enthuses over. He sits back up and leans against his hands.

"I'm flower... And I call him Ferny... We're plants that way, you see?" Flora explains.

Clive smirks a little too widely and snickers, " I like it though it's funny." Clive shakes his head with good humor, "Goodness, can't the man take a joke?"

"That's what I thought!" Flora giggles. "Well, I'm glad you see it."

Then she sees it. Just then does she notice a paper jutting out of his jacket pocket. It looked to be a page from the newspaper. Instead of asking what it is, she snatches it for herself.

"Hey! Give that back!" Clive scolds her.

She catches a single glimpse of the image before he recaptures it, "That was the clock shop! Cog and Spring's... Shop."

"That's right," Clive grumbles before shoving the paper back in its rightful place.

"But... Why would that be in the newspaper so recently?" Flora wonders desperately.

Clive exhales a very forlorn sigh that is misty in the early morning air, "Because the property is condemned and they are tearing it down the day after tomorrow."

"Oh Clive, that's awful," Flora sympathizes, resting a hand on his fists still clasped in front of him.

"I... want to see it one more time, but... at the same time I want nothing to do with it."

"I think you should go," Flora encourages, "You won't get another chance."

This obvious fact is only more troubling when she says it, "I know that. But wouldn't it be better to just let it be destroyed?"

"No! Of course not they were your friends!" She reminds him.

A look of envy flashes in his eyes, "They were very good people. Better than I will ever be."

"If you remember where it is I could drive you," Flora offers.

"No you can't! You have no license!"

"Neither do you."

Clive stares at her a moment before breaking a huge smile, just as the sun rises slowly behind his head, "I never knew you could be such a rebel, Flora."

She giggles at this because normally she wouldn't be. Perhaps she had been sitting next to Clive too long and he has rubbed off on her, "I don't know what you mean."

"Tell your little yellow dot that," he teases.

"What!?" she glances down to see her mark is indeed showing in a very vibrant tone of gold.

"It shows up when you lie. Usually about how charming I can be," Clive jests with an impish expression.

Flora would smack that look right off his face if she didn't have the restraint of a proper young lady. "I do not lie!" She informs him, "And it's not a dot! It's an apple! It has a stem at the top! See?" She rants.

He raises his two hands defensively, "Alright I believe it! Geesh! Don't get so mad about it! It's gone already!"

"Good!" Flora crosses her arms and pulls her coat tighter around her, but then her grip loosens as a painting in the sky fully emerges into what can now be called a new day.


	14. Chapter 14

"..."

"..."

The only sound to be heard is wheels trudging over the road beneath them and a soft rumble of the petite car's engine. They had hardly spoken since initially getting in the vehicle. Though it is a short drive across the city, the silence makes their journey drag on much longer.

Clive clears his throat, unable to bear it any longer, "...do you suppose the professor and Al are having fun at the museum today?" Clive asks without a glance past his passenger side boundaries.

His driver stops very abruptly and a strand of hair flips into her eyes. She glances over her shoulders like someone guilty of a crime before hastily tucking it back. She keeps her eyes glued to the windshield, on alert for any officers who could potentially pull her over.

"I'm sure their day will be fine," she says, curtly trying to fend off distractions.

"Why are they going again?"

"Oh the professor is to meet with a colleague of his and Alfendi loves to explore the museum. He especially enjoys the big Tyrannosaurus when you walk in. He doesn't care much for the omnivore exhibits though..."

"...I see." Clive could see a boy his age being fond of such things. What Clive does not appreciate is how trivial this small talk is. They had no common ground to discuss. Besides the bond they each shared with the kid brother.

"Maybe you'll have to go with them another time," Flora suggests, "I'm sure Alfendi and the professor would give you a grand tour."

Alfendi certainly had been awfully disappointed this morning when Clive told him he wasn't coming, but he didn't feel comfortable telling him he would be with Flora today. So another lie came out of his mouth instead. 'He was too tired,' he had said, 'He needed to recharge after this week at the factory.' But why did it matter? Who even cared if he happened to be with Flora today? The kid wouldn't have thought anything of it. But Flora also made no mention of their plans to the professor. Perhaps it was because he would have advised her against driving without her license. She claimed to be preoccupied with another project, which no one would question. She had much more credibility of course. It would seem she was just as ashamed to admit she would be spending her day with him as well.

"Here it is," he tells her suddenly recognizing the street they are on, "Turn right here and you can park along the street," he instructs. She pulls up to the nearby curb... and then onto it. He tries not to laugh and fails. This earns him a sharp scowl of course.

Because of this he doesn't say a word about the hazard her parking job is. Her parallel parking was straight, but her car still stuck out hazardously in the road. But, he judges that it will be fine, because this street ended in a dead end few cars travelled this way. It was this way ten years prior and it seems less and less are coming this way today.

'It's amazing how some things don't really change,' Clive considers, 'not for the better anyway...'

Cog and Spring's shop still stands out despite being nestled in its secluded location. From a distance its appearance hasn't changed in the slightest. Upon further inspection however it can be seen that it has been vacant for a time. The faded sign no longer had a purpose for advertising. The hands on the giant clock above had a touch of rust. The thick cobwebs adjourn the corners of the windows, the front steps, and the strange puzzle lock door. Other than that, no soul has tampered with this place.

Flora peers through the bay window, but no one is present of course. She still seems curious as to what might be inside, but she couldn't seem to squint through the closed blinds. It begins to pour like a faucet suddenly releasing a stream of water above them. He ducks under the awning and Flora follows. She knocks twice on the door, once again, and then three times as if she were expecting someone to answer the door.

"What are you doing?" Clive criticizes her stupid antics.

"This is the secret knock. Right?" She raps the back of her fist on the door exactly how she had before.

Clive blinks in surprise, "You... Still remember that?"

She nods, "Now that I'm here I do...This is a real blast to the past. Isn't it?"

When she says this he knows exactly what she means. He suddenly sees Flora as the young girl he had met so long ago then. She is even wearing a pink, simple dress not unlike the one she had worn then with a ponytail tied back with a large, red ribbon as well. He shakes his head to bring his hindsight back to the present.

"But it doesn't do so much good to dwell on the past, huh," Flora murmurs, possibly to herself.

"It's no good to ignore it either," Clive inputs almost defensively.

Flora ignores this and returns her curiosity to trying to peer in the windows, "Do you think everything is still inside? The giant antique clock?"

"Why does it matter?"

"Well, wouldn't it be a shame if it were destroyed tomorrow in the demolition?"

"I guess, but there's not a thing we could do," Clive insists.

"I suppose," Flora sighs. "I always thought it was a beautiful piece of machinery."

"That's because it was. I should know. I spent a small fortune just to restore it for Cog and Spring," Clive informs her.

Flora tilts her head at hearing such a strange absurdity, "Really?"

"Because... they loved their shop. When Cog found that machine it was in a scrap yard on a mountain of orange rust. When he saved that giant clock it became his pride and joy. He let me help with it too... That's how I got a basic knowledge of machinery anyway. They sacrificed so much for me... And I guess it's an appealing thought that something that was meant to be garbage wasn't..." His throat tightens at the despair he suddenly feels, "Given up on... Until now..."

"Absolutely not!" Flora decides defiantly, "We can't let this happen!"

"And what will you do about it?" He takes a seat on the mossy steps in resignation, "Do you think anyone else cares to petition for such a lost cause? We can't save it, Flora."

"Well, I don't give up so easily," She kneels down in front of the door's puzzle lock. Before he can protest she already has busted the code and enters the building.

"Flora! This is breaking and entering! Don't you think this is going too far?" But he scrambles in after her.

The floors creak violently beneath them, the hard wood now soft and rotting from what appears to be water damage that is clearly coming from the various leaks in the roof. With every step they take he swears he can feel the wet boards sag beneath them.

Every variety of clocks are absent from the barren shop. All except one. The most monstrous one of all. It is the only thing that could possible be under the black, water proof tarp. Clive takes one corner in his hands and Flora begins to tug the other to reveal the majesty still hidden beneath.

The giant beast of a contraption consumes the entire back of the store, the one and only rarity left to be witnessed. He figures it must have been impossible to label it with a price tag at an auction. A part of him is glad it is still here, but another part aches.

"You're right. It's still as impressive as ever," Clive admits.

Flora removes her cold, dampened, red coat and folds it over her arm as she comes close enough to touch her delicate fingers to the various, intriguing gears. Her curious mind appears to have drifted off to some other place for she does not even notice when he places a hand on her shoulder to pull her back a step.

"Careful," he warns, "It may not look like it, but it's very delicate."

Much like a child being told not to touch everything in a store, Flora pulls her hands away quickly and clasps them in front of her obediently. Clive smiles at her and places a palm on a safe, cold metal surface one last time: a final goodbye, though it feels much too soon.

"Do we really have to leave it behind?" Flora asks of him.

Clive nods somberly, but what he does not understand why she is so worried about such sentimentalities. "It's just a machine, Flora. It's not like it has feelings."

This response evokes a very unexpected and harshly illogical return from her, "Just because it is made of gears and cogs doesn't mean it isn't capable of being loved!" She declares with vicious defense.

Clive never could seem to get used to her angry outbursts, but this is... different somehow. He cannot even begin to figure out how to respond to this. 'What ever could she mean by that?'

"I'm sorry? Did I say something offensive?"

She shakes her head at this, embarrassed to have even expressed any of her inner turmoil, "Just forget about it."

"It's kind of hard when I know something is bothering you." He sympathizes despite his cluelessness of whatever ordeal she is in the midst of.

"I can't really talk about it. I couldn't even begin to explain it without it sounding like fiction."

It doesn't sound like she is rudely refusing to inform him, but that she genuinely believes he wouldn't understand. He is guessing whatever this is that is bothering her hasn't been received well before.

"Well whatever it is... I can assure you it's not too weird. I once built an entire replica of London underground, remember?" Almost immediately giggles replace that sad silence and lighten the heavy atmosphere around them, "I don't think it gets any crazier than that."

"Oh my story comes close..." She admits.

He doesn't get to ask to hear this tale before he notices that the boards beneath his feet are cracking underneath his weight from having stood atop of it for so long. He has just enough time to catch himself as the foundationless floor beneath him collapses.

"Clive!" Flora screams.

"Help! Quickly! Help me!" he begs as he scrambles to pull himself up.

Flora rushes to his aid and desperately tries to pull him back up. He swings one leg back up above and rolls back onto the soggy boards. The momentum of Flora's weak strength sends her reeling backwards. Her spine collides into a lever behind and shifts it until it is parallel with the ground.

"Oh no. Flora-"

"Ouch," Flora mumbles. She stretches out her back only to emit another moan of pain, "That's going to bruise."

"Flora! We have to-" But it is too late to escape. All four walls shake while the floor boards beneath them quake. Daylight forsakes them and windows rattle so loudly he can hardly hear Flora's screams... Or his own. Clive ducks down as a ceiling beam comes crashing through the boards, effectively separating them, while they shoot straight down into the vertical shaft.

"Flora! Hang on to something!" Her only response to his plea is to scream with the same degree of fright. Or is it somehow shriller?

There is a jolt as the room suddenly comes to a halt. In the pitch black it is impossible to even know if he has truly survived or not. He stands uncertainly, desperately hoping he isn't alone.

"Clive? Clive are you here?" Flora desperately pleads.

"Yes!" He quickly identifies as he stumbles over rubble and debris to reach her, "I'm right here! Listen to my voice!"

"Here! I'm here!" She calls. As he got closer he could feel the vibrations through his feet. He reaches the shaking girl in the pitch black where she is clinging onto a rusty bar for dear life.

"Are you ok?" He demands, prying her fingers free, with another hand placed on her shivering shoulder with concern.

"No!" She declares at once with a terrified tremor, "We're trapped here, aren't we?"

"We'll be alright," Clive tries to soothe her, but she won't have it.

"If we don't get out of here, there will only be more rubble falling into this hole tomorrow! A whole building! There's no avoiding it!" She begins to weep softly in her little corner, "I don't want to die here, Clive."

"We won't die," Clive dismisses, "I'll get us out. Just let me think." He pulls her up by one hand and let's her sniffle and wipe her tears with the other. Fear has struck him as well, but for her sake he dares not show it.

He feels along the structure of the massive clock to figure out where it is he is going without tripping over everything he cannot see. One trip would be enough for today.

He nearly steps right back into the hole he had created before; his step retreats when he discovers only air beneath him. The hole is much larger than it had been before and he suspects the entire right side of the room to be completely abolished. It suddenly became clear to him that they weren't going to escape by climbing their way back up. That left only one option...

Flora's hand clings to his as desperately as it had so many years ago. Though he knows that she has no trust for him now so there would be nothing he could do to mar his reputation any further.

He leaps straight into the empty shaft and tugs Flora in after him. She releases his hand in surprise causing him to panic possibly more than she currently is at having been tricked in such a cruel way and after he had promised her that no harm would come to her.

"Flora! Take my hand!" But she does not reply to him kindly for pulling this stunt and only anticipates her inevitable demise with a dreadful shreik.

As they quickly near the bottom however light begins to shine through again and he makes out her form in the darkness. Without thinking, he reflexively reaches out and takes hold of her two balled up fists and yanks her to him. She is pulled into his arms seconds before his back collides into the ground. Upon impact, a sharp crack sounds as his left arm and back first made contact with the cement below. Searing pain, unlike any he had ever felt in his life shoots through his very soul. He cannot stand the unbearable agony, let alone conceal it. Flora falls in a heap on his chest a second after and her hair completely cascades over his face before everything went black for what felt like an eternity.

It turns out he only blacked out for a few measly seconds before he is awoken by the very pain that had made him fall unconscious. Flora's hands are under his chin, lifting his head up by his neck. In a small recess of his mind he is wondering if she will finish the job. A part of him wishes she would. Besides her presense, pain is all he can feel.

"Clive wake up! Please! Don't die! Pleaseee!" She begs. Her head falls on his chest and she ever so slightly nudges his bad side.

Like Frankenstein being struck by lightening, he is rudely revived, "AHHHHHH!"

"Clive!"

He blinks up at her incredulously, "Did you honestly think I was dead?" He gripes.

"You wouldn't wake up!" She justifies. She brushes back her long, loose curls anxiously," You worried me."

The concern in her eyes is astonishing considering that it is for him, "Well… I'm not dying… but I'd be lying if I said I was alright."

This makes her rather fretful again, "Why? What's wrong?"

"My arm," he winces instinctively just at the thought of where his pain source is radiating from, "I think… I think it's broken."

She reaches for him, unsure of just how to be a nurse to him. Her gentle touch is enough to send a knife stabbing into his skin, but he tightens his jaw to restrain a grunt of suffering.

"I need to splint this," She pulls him up to a sitting position despite his protests. In a matter of minutes she finds the resources she needs: thin, splintered wood to keep his fracture from breaking any further, a shirt sleeve to bind the two splinters in place, and she ties his green coat over his shoulder and binds them together by lacing her red ribbon through the cufflink holes.

"Will this hold you over? Can you move?" She frets over the makeshift sling.

"It will have to do," Clive musters enough energy to stand on his feet. He finds that as long as he does not move his arm from its current position then he can avoid the sharpest discomforts.

Flora addresses their very next concern that had been on his mind as well, "Now how are we going to go about getting help?"

"There's another way out," He informs her. He refers to the original entrance to this giant cavern. How he had found this place at all so many years ago. He dips his head gravely at what lies ahead for him. "Right this way."

* * *

_Dang._

_I have to know, did any of you see that coming when i mentioned the shop? Or did you forget about the elevator? I like to surprise you all from time to time._

_I kind of got inspired by my own picture that i posted to my tumblr. (Clive and Flora literally falling and it's adorable despite their terror of falling in love? It was cuter in my head) That's why this even happened._

_This was actually never intended, but I love that this is where the story is heading. There is just a lot for them to work through and i think going back to where it all began. __10 years ago...dun dun dun._


	15. Chapter 15

"We're halfway there."

Flora perks up, "Are we?"

"More or less..." She dips her head in disappointment, "Hey, I want to be out of here too. This is the last place I want to be."

"Why is that?" Flora wonders.

"…I have my reasons."

Whatever these reasons, she thinks she would agree. With only Clive at her side it is eerie to be in the abandoned underground city. The emptiness makes her feel as if they are the only survivors left in all of London.

Clive grunts with almost every step he has to take. Moving at all is a pain for him. Flora gulps guiltily because she may be a little bruised up, but her bumps and scratches are nowhere near as bad as they could have been if he hadn't protected her. She's lucky that she didn't harm him further. How would she have coped if he had been killed by that fall?

'What was he thinking anyway? Was he trying to be heroic? It was stupid is what it was.'

As if she needed to see another person die before her eyes again...

This way of thinking becomes much too morbid for her and she has to push it away past the farthest memories she did not want to relive. Those of her mother… who only grew sicker everyday while she could only watch from her bedside as her health declined. It was traumatic the first time. Then her father had to expire in the very same way.

Clive coughs back another hapless cry of discomfort. Flora can stand it no longer to witness any more pain. "Let's stop to rest. You aren't doing well."

"I'm ok," he whispers weakly, "I'll get help sooner when we get out of here."

"A few minutes will be all. You are getting tired," she observes clearly. His breathing had become ragged even while he is standing beside her and perspiration had begun to bead up on his forehead.

"Fine, but I don't want to be here long," Without any further argument he takes a seat on an edge of sidewalk and tries to breathe without wincing. Flora doesn't say a word, only listening to him moan in pain. She assures herself that Clive would make it out with her. She would be sure of it.

If only they could get out of here sooner. Their destination certainly is a far one. The underground train is no longer functional... Or so they ventured to guess. Flora would rather trek on foot than have another near death experience today with failing technology.

Clive jerks his head up suddenly, forgetting about his pain as he becomes completely alert, "Flora, do you hear something?"

She does. She hears it and then feels it. Coming down the road a giant, mysterious tank comes barreling down the road ready to crush anything in it's path. They both stand though Clive much slower than her. Flora pulls him along by his right arm before they can be spotted. She pulls him behind the coverage of a tall shrub near the old hotel.

Her frantic thoughts become spoken aloud by another mouth, "No one should be down here!"

The tank drives on without any suspicion, but it only raises more worry for the two unwelcome visitors. "We have to follow it," Flora concludes.

Clive shakes his head at her bravery, "No way. It's too dangerous."

"But we can't let them get away with whatever they are doing. We need to figure out what is going on!" Her argument leaves him torn, but she is not swaying. She goes after it while he unwillingly, but loyally trails after her on her risky mission.

Flora's unease seeps deeper into her stomach as they follow it from a safe distance, far from their original goal point. 'Just why is it that this part of town is starting to appear rougher and more vandalized than the rest?'

That's when they hear a new sound. A helicopter flies overhead followed by a V of planes. An explosion sounds somewhere off to the east. Clive grabs Flora by her sleeve only to hear another commotion come from behind them. They both turn around to glimpse a mob of moaning towns people slowly limping towards them. Everyone one of the men and women were in bad condition, all of them were so pale, and she hopes she is mistaken but it sounded as if they were saying... brains?

'Brains!? As in... Zombies!? This really is an apocalypse!' Flora realizes much too late.

"We have to get out of the streets!" Clive tugs her along in a panic.

The adrenaline is so free flowing in her veins that she passes her guide. They duck into the cover a nearby alley and they slam a gate shut behind them. Flora finds that she is now the one panting heavily.

That is until a large, muscular arm snatches her from behind and Clive lets out a cry as two soldiers ambush them.

"It looks as if we have a couple of spies in our midst," The first grunt says.

"We're not spies!" Clive insists to him. The other grunt knees him in the back for this answer, causing him to fall to his knees. Despite any previous distraction that had ebbed away his pain, he is now fully immersed once again.

"Stop it!" Flora shrieks, "He's already injured."

"Well then you better tell us," the first grunt demands, "Where is the rest of your squadron?"

"We aren't apart of one!"

"Hey! Let the civilians go!" Another solider in grey shouts at their enemies.

A small assembly of grey suited men file in a line behind the chain fence and have come in order to rescue them, but that is when her capturer pulls a small pistol from a holster to point at her. His other companion pulls out a long gun to point at them for his partner's defense.

"Now we wouldn't anything to happen to this pretty girl now would we? Let us be on our way and no one gets hurt."

The men that have come to their rescue hold their ground, but are forced to relax their holds on their triggers.

"No!" Clive grunts out, coughing weakly.

"Help me!" Flora pleads helplessly, "Let me go!" Clive's victimization, holding his chest in his pain, suddenly takes her back to a time where she had once said these same words. She had been the victim and he the villain. Here in this same city.

* * *

"Let me go!" She cried, terrified to have been taken away from the professor for what she feared was forever.

The entire revelation had come as a shock. Future Luke, their friend the entire journey, had been... Evil? But how could Luke... No Clive... Do this? She thought she knew him. She never even suspected it. That's why... It also came as a shock to suddenly be taken by their so called friend.

His hand held her wrist firmly, but much less harshly than her current capturer. As she neared the water her mind blanked and her legs wanted to stop moving altogether. Before she knew it she was seated in the boat, safety harness and all, speeding over the river and clinging to her seat as each wave bounced them.

"Take me back! You don't understand!"

"No you don't understand!" He scolded her.

"Why me!? I thought you were my friend, Luke!"

"I'm not Luke," Clive corrected her, "That means we aren't friends any longer."

"After everything we've been through! This whole time it was a lie!? How could you!?"

"Would you stop asking me questions! This is the way it has to be!" He tells her harshly, though clear conflict is already evident in her eyes.

"That's a lie and you know it!" Flora accuses.

"It's too late now! We have to go!" The boat stops abruptly outside the lighthouse. She is shocked when he picks her up right out of her seat and begins to run.

Inside it was clear this was no average lighthouse. The interior is metal and filled with many engines and boilers and dark hall lighting with few doors but a very surprisingly luxurious elevator. Only when he enters does he let her down after persistent beating, kicking, and bites from his captive.

"No! I want out! Let me go!" She screamed as she smacked her fists against the doors. She pried at them to open, but he took her back.

"Stop that! Are you trying to get us killed? Do you want to fall down an empty shaft?" (It's almost funny how ironic remembering his statement after what had occurred today).

Finally, he dragged her to a dreadful room with only a glass dome. She resisted, knowing that this was to become her cell for him to dispose her in, but he still forced her behind the thick glass and encased her.

"Please! Let me go! You can't leave me here!"

"I'm sorry things can't be different. This is all for the best," he assured her.

"You're crazy!" She screamed at him. She fell to her knees as he turned away and abandoned her. She could only let the tears spill pathetically at being tricked. She had been so, so wrong about him. "I hate him! I hate him I hate him!"

* * *

"Hyyyyyyaaaah!"

A punch hits the first grunt so hard Flora stumbles free of his arm. Clive shouts out various profanities in only a tongue she could recognize, but she did not care to interpret. His fist shakes, unable to unclench it, but this is what is causing him his current agony in the first place.

"He... He actually hit me!" The grunt shouts into his hand, trying to stop the bleeding.

The soldiers on the other side of the fence glance at one another, completely mystified that their enemy is truly hurt, "That's not part of the script!"

"Who is that girl stealing MY role!?" A glamorous beauty shouts at her in a very irritated manner.

Flora was confused before, now she is even more lost than she and Clive had been at the beginning of this strange journey.

Everything about the tense situation eases immediately as soldiers of both sides come to the aid of their one wrongfully assaulted ally.

Flora rushes past them and kneels at her rescuers side, "Clive, are you ok?"

"I think I broke my hand!" He rants to the sky.

"CUT!" Someone's applied echo penetrates through the thick suspense. A new man enters the scene. He is not an angry general, but carries a megaphone in one hand a beret is thrown on the ground with the other.

"Why did you stop? That was perfect! You don't get any better acting then that!"

"This ain't acting sir! That male civilian really delivered a blow to my jaw!" The first grunt complains through a split lip.

"Someone call a doctor down here then!" he orders him, dismissing him to get out of his sight, "You two! You are not the originals cast for this part!"

"That's right! I'm the female civilian!" The beautiful woman says through her pouting lips.

"Yes, Belle, this is your movie I understand."

"Then why didn't you yell cut when you saw I wasn't out on the set!"

"I was under the impression that this one was your stunt double! Mistakes happen, alright?"

'Belle? Does he mean the plump young girl who had an infatuation for little Luke so many years ago? She is an actress now?'

Only then did Flora observe cameras poking out of the buildings high windows from above recording. They didn't blend in as much now that they are trying to discover the reason behind this mishap interrupting their recording.

"Wait... The underground London is now a replica city to shoot movies in?" Flora finally pieces together.

"Sweetheart, this here is the finest replica set of London... In the world." He motions to the glorious set they could destroy and rebuild to their hearts content, "Though it's much more trouble than it's worth. I wish we could just buy this land for our cinema studios," The director grumbles.

"You can't buy it?" Flora asks curiously. "Why not?"

"I hate to butt in to your chit chat, but..." He grimaces at them for forgetting his pain.

"Where is that doctor!? Get a doctor to the set! I don't want to say it again! Time is money here!"

Various assistants scramble to complete the dictations and he rolls his eyes at them and returns to Flora, "Well you see, miss, this is actually private property," he uses two fingers to motion for a set of imaginary quotation marks.

"You mean this isn't your property? Isn't that trespassing?"

"Not exactly... The land isn't for sale. The er... fellow who built this isn't cooperative. We asked once and he turned us down completely. Oh what was his name… Don… Clove?"

Flora glances to Clive as he glances up to her. Neither can say a word because they know exactly who he means. Flora keeps quiet a moment though because she is unsure of whether this reveal of information would be in their favor.

"Well, anyway, he technically owns this entire real estate and until we can track him down... We are stuck renting" he makes more quotation gestures which makes Flora suspect they have paid no expense of the sort to a landlord. The director shakes his head in annoyance.

"Clive Dove!?"

A citizen shouts behind the veil of a thick crowd. He pushes his way past them to reveal one of the original actors from 10 years ago who is suddenly spawned into their present day.

'Oh what was his name? The man from the black market? Segal!'

"Yes that was the name!" The director recalls.

At hearing this name more of these phony townspeople emerge. Some dressed as soldiers, civilians, thugs, casualties, and zombies.

"That is him right there!" Another one proclaims. The one with the newspapers. Dupree.

"Oy! 'E hasn't changed a bit, the boss ain't," Bostro's boisterous voice booms over the rest, "'ey boss?"

Clive can only turn his head away in shame. If he could have disappeared from where he sat so crippled and helpless he most certainly would have, but he didn't have even the luxury of crawling away.

The director's eyes boggle at him, "You're Dove?"

"Yeah," he confirms with a grunt, "Most aren't usually so thrilled to make my acquaintance."

"But you are what we have been waiting for! You can finally sell to us!" He proclaims.

Clive rolls his eyes because he is unable to make any other sarcastic gesture, " I've fulfilled the prophesy..."

"We can finally purchase this real estate!" He exclaims joyfully, "We can settle it right now. Name your price."

"I've told you before... I'm _really_ not interested," Clive grumbles.

"You couldn't make this easy," the director laughs, "I'll generously offer you fifty million pounds to get it off your hands."

"_Fifty million pounds_!" Flora exclaims, she quickly puts her hands over her gasping mouth, a bit startled by her own exclamation.

Clive shakes his head at him, "You do realize I put my entire fortune into this city right? Do you really believe it was a few measly million to do that?"

"The real estate has gone down and your investments were poor, but I do understand. Seventy-five then?"

"This is really not a concern of mine," Clive tells him with a sigh, "I'm not interested in your money. If you don't mind I would like to see a doctor and be on my way."

"One billion. That's my final offer," he asserts.

Clive becomes much too annoyed at this point to argue anymore, "Will you leave me alone! I don't want any money!"

He storms off rudely from his presence without an explanation. A doctor has arrived and he had been attending to the grunt actor's injuries when Clive interrupts them to politely ask for his assistance next.

"Grumpiest hermit I ever did see," The director shakes his head in irritation. "He'll change his mind. They always do."

Flora doubts this. The price had not swayed his answer in anyway. In fact the higher he offered the angrier Clive became. It made no sense to her either.

'He could be a billionaire! He could have been the day of his release! Why did he come to her door to scam them once again!? He lied to them all this time! He didn't need food, shelter, a job, or anything! He could have been living a life of luxury!' She couldn't make any sense of it. Her head is spinning like a merry-go-round that is no longer merry.

"Is he at least kinder to you?"

Flora shakes her head, "Excuse me?"

"Is he kinder to his girl?" He clarifies for her.

"WHAT! I am not with him!" Flora defends against such preposterous notions.

He is startled by her panic and shrugs at his assumption, "I'm sorry, but I thought he had a soft spot for you… punching men and the likes."

"N-no never!" She rambles and tries to cover up the devastating blush on her cheeks.

"Are you alright? You look troubled," The director notices.

"Excuse me… I need to get some air."

"We are already outside... If you need to see the doctor as well you can be the next in line."

"I need some time alone please. Don't worry over me please."

Her small pink flats on her feet start to blister her angry feet so she slips them off and carries them. The way she flees is much like a pup with its tail between its legs.

'Watch your step, Flora...' She hears his faint words echo, 'Take my arm, Flora. You can always rely on a true gentleman.'

'No she couldn't! Why did he have to say that? How humiliating!' In her defense Clive had always been handsome. But, she thought he was a dear friend. Luke had always been her closest friend when she accompanied the professor on his journeys. Only he had matured into the gentleman he had strived to be. It was a foolish, girlish crush that had formed. It is a good fortune that it had been demolished completely under those awful circumstances. It trained her to be much more careful in whom she trusted.

Flora does not know why she decided to come to the pier, but she admires the sparkling clean water. This man made replica is so much cleaner than the original. It reminds her of the small river outside her home in the village.

She remembers how she had fallen in her river as a young girl once. Matthew had scooped her out immediately, but the thought of drowning terrified her still. Why is it that she always seemed to find so much danger she couldn't handle? Why couldn't she just take care of herself? She doesn't want anyone's help anymore.

Having a hard heart doesn't make her feel protected from what is hurting her. Since Clive had been with them she had become someone she never used to be. She is tired of holding up this wall of bitterness. It wasn't keeping him out.

But what else was she supposed to do?

* * *

_I finally got this to post today! (My wireless connection is crap apparently)_

_Today we kind of gained some insight on why Flora has matured the way she has. Some may think I distorted her character, but the bitterness of her character appears when Clive is present and now we know why. I think she grew up a great deal in the years to follow, but at the same time she withdrew into herself in order to protect herself. Can you blame her? She is always the one being kidnapped and the one every one is trying to protect and she doesn't want to be the troublesome one. _

_I feel like not only Flora has gone through this in life, but myself and others. There comes a time where we are trying to be grown up and do everything on our own, but in the process we unintentionally push others away. It's ok to let others help you. _

_Also I wanted to make a comment on hate. It's really, really hard to live a content life when you allow hate to taint how you live. It actually hurts you more than anyone else. I've realized this and now Flora has too. _

_I do hope all is well with you my readers. Now that it is summer I hope to have a bit more time, but I am still working and I still am taking classes over the summer. However, this week has been incredibly peaceful. I do hope you all stick with this story until the end because I've got plans for these two. ;)_


	16. Chapter 16

After the doctor finished attending to his injuries (he received a fractured humorous and two broken fingers from that drop for the elevator) Clive had the chore of trying to find where Flora had run off to. At least his legs still functioned after a fall and a beating.

Though he couldn't complain about Flora. He had left her alone for hours. He didn't consider that she wouldn't wait for him, but then again maybe he should have. A woman like her did not wait for a man like him.

With his jacket over his good arm and his bad arm hanging from a sling, he walks down the stable wooden floorboards of a well built dock. Along the second replica Thames he finds his missing company.

"There you are," Clive exhales in relief.

"Here I am," She mumbles. Her head is down while she kicks her freed, bare feet. She is much too high up to reach her toes to the water, but she is at peace for once, enjoying the relaxing instant. The sun has begun to set and she almost appears content.

He already has teasing words on his lips, but his eyes display another emotion very clearly: relief. "Come cherie! I need to bring you back with me... We both fell into this mess."

He extends his good arm out to her for her to take. To his surprise she accepts it with no protest. She holds onto him lightly and he braves any discomfort or awkwardness despite its severity. She does not utter so much as a whine or grumble as they walk arm in arm. "Is everything alright?"

Flora nods, "We really should be going. It's getting dark. The professor will worry. Alfendi too."

"Right..." He can't put his finger on it, but she is acting different in some way. It's unnerving for her to be so... Calm. It's an impossible spectacle to witness considering how high strung with stress she could be.

"What brought you down to the pier?" Clive pries curiously, "That's an odd place to run off to. I thought to look everywhere else, but there."

"Oh. Some old memories," Flora dismisses. The far away look in her eyes only adds more curiousness to the already odd atmosphere surrounding her tone.

"What kind of memories?"

"Of my home," she whispers with a far away glance of longing.

He is a bit mystified by her homesickness. It had only been a day after all. "Oh yes. The professor and your brother. Right then, I'll get you back," he promises.

"I wanted to ask you..." She interrupts him. He glances down at her skeptically, but the pause between them long enough that she gains the courage to ask, "What is the reason that you won't sell this property?"

Clive swallows an enormous lump caught in his throat, "The reason? Does there have to be one?"

"I'm sure you have one," she determines.

He tries not to display this evident distress, "I told them. I don't want their money."

She shakes her head at him, "But that isn't why."

He comes to a restful halt. His chin dips far, far down until it touches his neck as if he were a turtle trying to recede. His shortened hair can no longer fall down in front of his eyes. Salted water already begins to sting on the edges of his eyelids.

"Clive?" Flora wonders worriedly, "Did I say something wrong?"

"I could... Show you why I can't. It's a bit out of the way..." he clears his throat, but still can't quite enunciate any more, "but umm-"

"-Sure, that's fine."

He supposes he has no choice. Refusal would only further the gap of distrust even further.

They venture up a tall hill in the forest past the bridge and away from the outskirts of the city. He leads them down an overgrown path that Flora stumbles through in her flimsy shoes. The grass and weeds seem to ensnare her every step. Clive gives her an apologetic glance, but it is tainted by a mocking grin that is aimed towards the cakes of mud stuck on her soles.

Finally, they reach their detoured destination. It is quaint for Constance's tastes, but still a very luxurious summer home that was very secluded. He still has Flora in tow when she stops him from getting near the residence.

"Wait, this sign says no trespassing, Clive."

"Are you forgetting I own everything!?" Her resistance ebbs at his harsh reminder, "Sorry, it's only a little farther."

He knew the general area in the forest of the particular tree he needed. The one he had carved into as a little boy. His message is now at eye level with him after two decades of growth. It had originally been inscribed at the near base of the trunk. He kneels down out of respect and tries to hold in his grief in front of Flora.

She reads his boyish scratches in the bark, "Mum and Dad? You mean this is...?"

He shushes her rudely. He couldn't let her say it. Yes, this is their grave.

"Hi... Mum. Hi Dad," His whispers falter. His voice is already thick and he can hardly mumble his short greeting of reunion, "Sorry I haven't visited... In... In."

"Clive?" Flora reaches out a tentative hand to him, but he is too tightly curled into himself. "Clive I'm so sorry."

He sobs wretchedly for his loss. He could not keep it inside any longer, "Everything hurts."

"That's ok. It's going to be alright," She soothes. She places a hand on his shoulder blades and rubs a gentle, motherly hand back and forth to calm him.

He finally sits up to wipe away his teary cheeks, "I'm a grown man... And I am crying like this. I'm so pathetic."

A look of pain is swimming in her eyes as well. She kneels beside him and wraps her arms around him carefully. He does not know how it is possible that her embrace could not be causing him more pain. "You can save your socially acceptable appearances for later. I won't tell anyone," she promises him.

And so he cries, much like an infant without a pacifier, into her hair until he could not utter a single whimper. In her empathy she had shared a few tears with him, but in the end she only placed her hand on his in assurance, "You'll be alright. Clive."

He doesn't dismiss this like anyone else who tried to comfort him. For some reason he wanted to believe this. At least Bill Hawks recieved some punishment. That almost avenges his parents. All that is actually left is his own healing. Right? Maybe now he really could try to move on.

"I do hope you keep that promise. Thanks... I mean... I'm so sorry. That must have been uncomfortable." He wipes the last of the tears from his eyes shamefully.

"Don't be. I can understand how hard it must have been to come back here after all these years," she reassures him, "You could not have chosen a more beautiful place to rest their souls."

"I wanted them out of London. I didn't want anyone to ever hurt them again."

Flora nods, "I see."

Water begins to swell in his eyes once more, "Do you know how old I was when I was given my parents ashes? Y-you don't give a boy two urns with his mum and dad inside! You just don't do that!"

"I'm sorry," she murmurs again, "I understand now."

"Do you?" He challenges, "Do you really?"

Flora glances down, seeming uncertain of herself, "I had to bury my parents at a very young age as well. They were buried in our garden..."

"THEY'RE IN THE GARDEN!?" Clive shouts in horror.

"NO! Not that one! The one in my village where I grew up!" She grumbles the word imbecile under her breath.

Clive is relieved despite her insult, "You can't just spring that up on people!"

"You really turned white. Like a ghost," Flora laughs once, but then thinks better if it because they are both in such a solemn mood, "Maybe we should be going."

He offers his good arm to her again with a devilish grin that he could somehow muster, "Shall we?"

She does not utter a complaint and climbs on past him in too much of a hurry. He has to redirect her the opposite way where she had missed the wide mouth of a tunnel before them. The exit to the cavern at last.

"It's a steep uphill climb from here," he informs her, "Think you can handle it?"

"I've made it this far. And what about you?" She pokes his sling skeptically.

"We could both use all the help we can get," he jokes with her.

"Some more than others." A smirk forms on her face, but out of politeness she turns it away from his direction. He isn't sure how much offense to actually take at this.

"Well then! Don't expect me to comfort you. I remember how afraid of the dark you are," he taunts.

She rolls her eyes at his assumption, "Please... I am not."

"Yes you are!"

"Oh! I'll show you!"

She tugs him along a little too roughly into the pitch black of the cave... only to realize she doesn't know the way. Their playful teasing the whole way helps his inner turmoil settle after such a traumatic afternoon. With every step he takes with her he escapes that dark place.

Maybe today hadn't been so awful after all.

...

"You're back! Haha!" Alfendi nearly pounces on Clive until he sees his casted arm in a sling, "Hey! What happened to you?"

"Oh, Flora pushed me down the stairs." He shrugs like it is no big deal. He winces as she gives him a harsh jab.

"I did no such thing!" Flora declares. She shifts her eyes away sorely, "The clumsy dolt fell..."

Clive chuckles to himself at Flora's frazzled reaction because he knew he deserved that. This was not what they agreed to tell them when they came home after what had all happened today. He just couldn't seem to resist such an easy tease.

"Good heavens," The professor gasps at them. He exits his study in haste at hearing of the arrival, "You could have given me a call! I would have come right away."

"Oh I don't doubt you professor. The truth is Flora actually took really good care of me."

Flora blinks at his compliment. She becomes a bit sheepish and clears her throat, but sounds like an embarrassed little lamb.

The professor embraces both of them with relief, "If anything like this should happen again, do call me."

"It happened so fast it slipped my mind. I didn't think we would be gone that long," Flora murmurs apologetically. She acknowledges the arm that holds her with a hug in return, "Next time I will."

Clive stands limply with no way to hug anyone, "I could use some rest. It's been a long day."

"That it has," the professor agrees, "We should all be getting to bed."

"But I wanna tell him about the new exhibit!" Alfendi cries out.

"Later, ok? Tomorrow at breakfast."

"Ok!" This gets the boy to scramble up to his room as if he could not wait for the morning to come.

"I could never get him to go to bed of his own free will like that." She sighs dramatically at Clive, but with good humor.

"I need the rest too," he declares, "You put me through enough for one day." He wiggles his sling and tries to loosen it enough to actually relax for the night.

"I'm sorry about that," Flora apologizes for once, truly guilty to have hurt him, "Here, let me get that."

She kneels over him as she adjusts the latch to give his cast some slack to have more freedom.

He could still smell a warm fragrance that comes from her that smells sweet with a little bit of a spice. The curve of her hair suddenly resembles a sugary cinnamon roll. He sheepishly tries to cover up a stomach growl with a cough. Gazing at her profile for that short time he could see that gentleness he though he knew before in those eyes. The ever so slight, delicate curve of her brow, however, revealed that Flora was all determination. He supposes he admires that. She was passionate, but still soft as dough.

"Do you want a pillow to prop that up?"

"Huh?" Clive responds absentmindedly to her.

"Or perhaps an extra blanket..." She pauses when she sees that he is staring.

"His throat felt dry, but what he did not dare to ask her for is a glass of water or anything else that would keep her here. He wished for her to leave already. This is just becoming too weird. "I'm fine. Please don't trouble yourself."

"Alright then," she concludes warily, though he is sure she didn't actually mind helping out.

"Good night, Flora," he smiles at her little more kindly, "Thanks."

She nods once and silently ventures up the stairs.

Clive couldn't help smiling still. Trying not to laugh at her, "Pâtisseries."

* * *

_Oh Clive, Flora is such a cute little pastry xD (I wrote that second ending at like 1 in the morning so cut me some slack. I was probably craving a midnight snack. Doesn't her hair look like a __cinnamon roll though?)_

_I had to lighten the mood again. Clive was too sad. This was a rough chapter for him._


	17. Chapter 17

Flora sits alone on a wide bus seat with only her briefcase beside her. It would seem she would be taking advantage of London's public transportation a little longer. She would have to wait a few weeks to retake her driving exam... It was such a pity to see her yellow vehicle so neglected every time she had to walk to the bus stop.

She riffles through some rough sketches for the upcoming winter. She could hardly believe the fall season had already arrived. So much had changed in the last few months of her career. She hoped that all these new challenges, like the promotion and learning French, would truly shape her into a finely skilled designer.

A true designer wasted no opportunities.

That is why on the bus she sits comfortably in the corner with the bright sunlight over this season's sketch pad. She notices some misplaced graphite markings that she had forgotten to remove on a truly dazzling outfit.

"Oh now where was that eraser?" Flora mumbles to herself in her search through her messy career in a bag.

Someone taps her shoulder from behind, "Would you like to borrow this one?"

"Yes perfect! Thank you sir!"

"Oh no problem, Flora."

Her hand freezes as she glances down. The missing eraser she had been searching for is now in her hand. It even had her name inked on the back of it.

"Would you like the rest of your things back?" Clive taunts from the seat behind her. In his sticky fingers he holds up three pencils, an expensive fountain pen, and a tube of lipstick.

"You little thief! Give those back!" She cries and snatches them back into her possession

He gives up the fight, mostly because he was at a disadvantage, having only three fingers without bandages.

One brow of his raises involuntarily as he glances at the papers in her lap. "Those are nice drawings. Are those destined for Paris?"

"Oh no. Those submissions were already turned in weeks ago," Flora informs him.

He purses his lips, considering this. "Do they accept any late contributions? Because these are all fantastic."

Flora couldn't help but be slightly tickled for such praise. After all, these were only her rough sketches, "I'm afraid not. I've already turned in three designs. I have to say that they could be my very best."

Clive nods without any doubt. "You certainly have worked hard. No one else would be as deserving."

"I'm glad you think so," Flora smiles down at her designs longingly. "I forgot to ask you, what are you doing here?"

He tosses a paper sack into her seat, "That's because you forgot your lunch, silly."

She recalls this now. She had remembered everything, but that paper bag had slipped her mind. Clive must have seen it when he had cleaned up their breakfast dishes from that morning. "Oh... Oops. You didn't have to come all this way."

"It gave me something to do. Besides... Can't a man ride a bus to wherever he pleases in this city?"

"But you hate London." He shrugs, not about to argue that he didn't. She shakes her head at his shenanigans. "I really had nothing better to do."

"This absence from the factory has really left you bored hasn't it?" She packs up everything tidily back into her briefcase, "Well thank you for thinking of me. You can go home now."

"I suppose I will after this," he muses.

She sighs in relief, "Good. This is my stop."

"Au revior, Cherie," he winks.

"Save the pet name. I have a boyfriend for that."

"Quoi? You mean fleur?" He mocks, "Oh sure that's original."

"And Cherie is original?" She steps off the bus with a small skip. Her own wittiness already has her feeling chipper.

"I'll think of something!" He shouts out the window, "I will see you tonight, Cherie."

Flora grins stupidly as the charter drives him down the street with him still waving like an idiot with his only arm that could be in motion. She certainly hopes he will go home like he promised. The daffodils in the flower bed were starting to look a little sad without them.

The tall skyscraper before her beckons to her. There was already a catering truck parked in their lot with canisters of food being brought to the floor at the very tippy top of their building. She is sure someone has planned this entire event so extravagantly. She knows it is only a proper meeting, but she still hopes there is a little fun to be had. Like dancing!

She walks up the front steps and into the elevator. She pushes the button for her level and when her finger releases a number 10 is illuminated. She rest against a wall as the doors come to a gentle close just as a very tan hand reaches in between to catch a ride. Flora quickly his the button to open the doors only to be confronted by the angry eyes of a very jealous boyfriend.

"Is he a friend of yours?" Fernando has the audacity to ask.

She has nothing to hide, but the way he looks at her already indicates she is not innocent by any means to him. This crosses her and she is keen on standing her ground.

Flora intertwined her arms firmly, "You've already met Clive. You didn't have a problem with him then."

"Have I? When was this?" Fernando wonders aloud, expecting an answer to justify his forgetfulness.

"You met him when you first came to my house," she reminds him.

Suddenly, his stern, jealous features relax, "Ohhh... the brother."

'No!' She wanted to shout. 'He is not the brother! It wasn't all that long ago at all! Didn't he pay any attention to my family?' Flora tries to simmer down before she got angry enough to let another fight erupt. Alfendi was considerably younger than her and they weren't related by blood. She figures she probably did share more similarities with Clive than Al. To correct him would not be worth her time.

Her eyes close in frustration as she still holds her defensive pose, "If this is how you are going to act whenever another male gets near me, then I'm not sure I want you as my escort tonight."

His face falls like a leaf changing into it's autumn color. It is a gradual change. The shock is evident. And one it is dropped from its branch it sends that leaf spiraling to the ground.

"I don't believe I heard you correctly."

"Maybe we were good together at first, but..."

She sighs at the way she addresses him so vulnerably. She had never been good at this. She would do anything to keep those she loved happy even at the cost of her own happiness. But where could she draw the line. What was love really? Is this how it would always be?

He clutches his heart as if she had viciously ripped it out of his chest, "...but Flora! I could not live without such a presence in my life."

"Then don't be so worried about me!" She begs, "There has to be trust between us. I trust you. I can tell you for certain I wouldn't trust Clive..."

Not with anything. Not ever.

The short ride in their closed space ends. The doors open, but Flora would not exit without any acknowledgement o her needs.

"I understand." Fernando brings her into his strong arms and kisses her head sweetly, "Forgive my jealousy."

"From now on just focus on what matters. Don't let petty insecurities get in between us." Flora assures him.

He releases his hold on her, but just enough to keep her captive with his dark, piercing eyes, "How can I not worry? My darling flower, any man in the world would desire to have you as their own. That is why I want to keep you from them."

"Well Clive hasn't tried to snatch me away as of recently..." She muses. Her inside joke is thoroughly amusing despite its origins. She almost laughs, but thinks better of it.

"He calls you Cherie." Fernando justifies, "This I could not allow."

Flora's nose crinkles at this. "Huh? What's wrong with that?"

"Cherie is French for 'dearest' one. How could I let any man get away with calling you such things?"

Flora can immediately feel her face flush at discovering this translation. "Oh heavens no! That is not at all what he means! If anything he is using that term for irony's sake. You really have nothing at all to worry about."

His arms around her relax, but she still clutches to his arm. "I could not be more relieved to hear that."

'Neither could I,' she ponders fearfully. 'I always thought that it was an insult somehow when he called me that.'

She cannot get her hands to stop shaking while she sits at her desk. She can hardly believe one definition could get her this shaken up. She eventually has to sit on her hands to make them stop.

"Are you nervous about tonight, hun?"

Velvet stands at the entrance to her cubicle with a covered cup with an herbal tea tag sticking out from underneath the lid.

"More than a little," Flora admits. These are the only words that come out despite more than one source causing her stress.

"I'll go steep another," She leaves her own tea behind for her and goes to make herself a new drink.

Flora cups the warm edges and inhales the scent of the relaxing concoction. She takes a sip and rests her head against the edge of her chair for neck support. A massage would certainly loosen up the knots of worry and nerves built up in her shoulders.

"Heads up, sleeping beauty," Flora blinks her eyes in time to see Jean toss a paper sack onto her desk, "Most of us come to work to actually work."

That sack. Her eyes widen and she has to check the contents for sure.

It wasn't what she had packed for herself. She had made herself a sandwich with peanut butter and cucumbers. What she has instead is what looks like a large chunk of a casserole. There is also a large green apple. This is so much more than she would usually eat.

Flora would be relieved if she wasn't so confused. "Did you pick up lunches for everyone today?"

"Nope."

"Then why are you here? To talk to Velvet."

"Well you are correct that I wouldn't be talking to you if she were here." He smirks.

Flora becomes frustrated with this pointless dallying, "Where did you get this?"

"A man outside asked me to give it to you. He said you left it behind on the bus." Velvet arrives just in time to her own cubicle to hear her husband say this.

"Oh! Do tell. What did I miss here?" She pries. She skips right over Flora and glances at Jean for an answer.

"I didn't know the man," he shrugs, "It really isn't as gossip worthy as you would think."

"You ought to get back to running that photo shoot then. The models are waiting," she sighs as she shoos him away.

"Try not to have too much fun without me," he winks to them.

Flora takes an enormous chomp out of her apple in her little corner. She wasn't hungry yet, but her stomach was doing flips. How much grief could she receive from one morning's ride on the charter? At least Jean hadn't gotten a name.

"It was Clive wasn't it?" Velvet calls over the cubicle.

"Mind your own business!" Flora snaps.

There is silence on the other side of the wall. Velvet rolls her office chair right into her cubicle, appearing shocked, "You aren't denying it?"

"Denying what?"

"That Clive is the one who gave you this?" She paws at the bag on her desk.

Flora snatches it and stands, wanting to escape more than anything, "I need to put this in the refrigerator before it spoils."

"Did he really come all this way for you."

"So what if he did? He was trying to be nice. I didn't ask him to bring me something to eat. I could have gone out on my lunch break."

"But you've been... Or rather Clive has been... packing lunches for you for weeks then."

"No. He hasn't. He only packed it today."

Velvet points at her, catching her red handed, "Then it was him!"

There could be no denying it after all. "Yes! It was!" Flora admits, "We are just friends, I promise."

Velvet crosses her arms at her, "Oh so we are friends now are we?"

"Would you quit it!" Flora shouts at these attacks, "Stop turning this into something it's not!"

"Oh this isn't something? Tell me when the last time you and Fernando went out to lunch then. You're going to tell me you are still in love with him?" She dares to question.

"Fernando and I make sense!" Flora justifies, "We are both designers and know everything about this industry! We can be a great team together."

Velvet's criticism hardly relents. "Do you have anything else in common, girl? It takes more than that to make a marriage work!"

"Marriage?" Flora is stunned, "What do you mean?"

Velvet drops her eyes to the ground in ashamed bashfulness, a rare characteristic from her dearest friend, "I just don't want you to end up with the wrong person, honey. I want what is best for you."

Marriage though? This had come from nowhere. She couldn't possibly mean...

"I think I need my lunch break early," Flora jets out of her minuscule space like a bullet destined to a new path. One that could only lead her to the destruction of something. She flees down the stairwell and into a small custodial closet. There she tries not to hyperventilate, but fails.

"She can't mean..." She whispers aloud. "Ferny wants to marry me?"

Is that what he meant so long ago? When he said that wherever one would go the other would follow? They had only dated for the summer. This is too soon. When was he planning to ask her? It couldn't be... Tonight.

Could it?

* * *

_... O_o_

_Well that escalated quickly. _


	18. Chapter 18

Charlie, George, and David had struck again.

And it wasn't like Alfendi to let them get away with it.

Dad is furious with him. He hadn't shown it when he had to pick him up from school after the incident. But Alfendi could sense his father's disappointment towards him in his gentlemanly silence. Besides, his honest eyes betrayed all.

Why did he have to be such a screw up?

His dad parks the ridiculous vehicle outside the house behind Flora's. Alfendi is ready to fling himself out of the awkward tension of that enclosed space. But, of course, this is when father finally turns to address him on the matter.

"Son... A word please."

Alfendi turns away his black eye. It was as good as a stamp of failure.

"Yeah? What?"

"Can you think of any other answer that could have yielded better outcomes today?"

Alfendi frowns, "No."

"You understand there were consequences for resorting to violence on the school grounds."

"They were asking for it!" Alfendi insists.

"I know those boys were picking on your friend-"

"-Hilda is not my friend! She's a girl!"

The principal had informed his dad incorrectly. First off, the only reason he stepped in is because he was there on the blacktop. He was keeping his distance from where his bullies usually played and stuck to drawing with chalk instead.

Well, Charlie, David and George weren't staying away. They kept throwing their dodgeball at Hilda while she was trying to jump rope. They kept saying they were missing; that it was an accident that it kept hitting her, but anyone with eyes could see they were doing it to get her attention.

She tried ignoring them, but they kept messing her up. She finally told them to leave her alone and to quit being dunce breaths.

Alfendi's respect for her increased 5% for that comeback.

But they didn't stop. The next time they hit her it hit her in the mouth and she lost a front tooth. Then she started to cry. That's when Alfendi... well… lost control. He beat all three of them to a pulp. They got in one good sucker punch and that's how it happened.

His father removes his hat to scratch his hair. Streaks of silver are beginning to tint his hair. Alfendi wonders how much greyer he made his thinning scalp today alone...

"All I ask of you... Is to think things through before you act. Violence is not something I will condone, Alfendi."

"So they are allowed to keep hurting others? And I'm the one who gets punished?"

"The other boys will-"

"-No dad they won't!" He screams in frustration," I'm always the one who gets in trouble! Their parents don't punish them because I get the blame. No one ever does anything about it and so they get away with it! If no one stands up to them they are just going to grow up to be common criminals. Or worse, they'll be regular citizens that will be mean to everyone and then I won't even be able to lock them up for that!"

"That is no way to talk about your classmates. If we can correct this now then I would hope to prevent any future injuries... to you included, Alfendi."

"You don't get it! You never do!" Alfendi accuses him.

"Alfendi!"

Without wait he slams the car door behind him and buries himself under his covers behind the barricade of a dresser on front of the door to his room. His dad tries to talk sense to him, but he gives no acknowledgement. Eventually, his dad gets the message. He retires to his study for the night as he always did.

Alfendi plays with his favorite toy for the next twenty minutes. His detective handcuffs clack until they loop around no wrist and allow him to spin them around again. Dad always warns him against this because he worries he will break them. It's not like he can use them anyway. Well, other than the time he kept Clive from leaving their family.

'Where is Clive anyway?'

His best friend's absence is certainly mysterious because he never leaves the house anymore. He quit his job or something for a few weeks because of his arm. Which is fantastic because his dinners are waaay better than anything Flora could whip up.

Silent like a ninja, Alfendi scrapes his dresser across the floor and back into place across the room. Then he tiptoes down the creaky steps. Ok, so he is less than sneaky, but dad didn't try talking to him again. That is all he cared about.

Clive isn't in the house. And the last piece of leftover casserole is missing. This bad day just kept getting worse. He is famished and there is absolutely nothing to eat. Nothing he wanted anyway. At the very least he pulls out a bag of frozen fruit to ice his sore face with.

'Maybe he's outside in the garden again.' He really liked their backyard for some reason. Then again he would like being outside too if he ha been locked up in prison for ten years.

He spots his buddy with his sister. Weird. Both are sitting on the bench in the corner of the garden. It surprises him how close Flora actually is to him. They are nearly shoulder to shoulder.

He barely opens the door when he remembers that they haven't seen him today. If Flora saw his shiner... She would flip out for sure. With every intention of retreating he pulls the door towards him again, but he drops the blasted bag of fruit. All over the ground strawberries stain the floor like a victim's blood.

Alfendi grumbles at the mess, "Great. Just great..." Now he has to clean this up. Alfendi refuses to be yelled at for some other stupid mistake. Clive's laughter enters through the crack in the door with the breeze. And Flora is out there with him. What would Clive and Flora have to talk about anyway?

"Just to clarify... You're not a robot?" He teases, "Right?"

"I am not," she giggles and then exhales in relief, "I'm just glad you didn't laugh at me..."

"Why are you telling me this?"

"Because... I was hoping you'd believe my story. You built an underground London. How weird could my little village be?"

"Fair enough."

"It sounds so crazy, but it really was where I was raised."

'Wait! Wait just one minute!' Alfendi's thoughts race, 'She told him about the village? She never talks about that! To anyone!' It is a good thing dad already lectured him on self control because he stays put instead of confronting Flora on spoiling her biggest secret. He is still shocked, but he couldn't let it be so obvious that he was listening in. He continues to scoop the red mush back into the bag as he listens in to get the big scoop.

Clive continues to question her about it, "Even your uncles were robots?"

"Yup." Flora answers.

"And your stepmother?"

"Erm. Yes." Flora fidgets.

"And you were like a princess waiting in the tower... waiting for a prince who could make you laugh again?"

"I suppose," Flora admits, "Papa was looking for someone who could look after me. I was too young even if a prince figure did come."

"You sure got the king of all fathers." Clive assures her.

"The professor is a great guardian to me, but I still see Papa as my father." Flora tells him firmly," I don't feel right replacing him."

"Right." Clive muses thoughtfully, "I felt the same about Constance. I loved her, but she wasn't my mother."

"Dahlia may have looked like my mother... But you can't bring a person back. No matter how much you love them." Flora sighs.

"I've got a question. It's a bit unrelated." Alfendi doesn't hear Flora respond, but she must have encouraged his curiosity somehow.

"Does Alfendi have a mother?"

Everything turns cold, but that may just be his grip on the mushed frozen berries. His eyes immediately set to a glare. Then, it feels as if his skin is boiling. His red hair falls over his eyes, effectively shielding his face. His eyes feel like they are on fire with rage. Thankfully, no one could see the hot tears leaving burning trails.

"Oh don't ask him about that." Flora warns him in a hushed whisper. "That is such a touchy subject for him."

"I figured it would be rude to ask him. That's why I'm asking you." Clive justifies.

"No no. You can't mention that around him. It really upsets him. He would never forgive me if I said anything."

"So you're saying you know... But you won't tell me."

"It's not for me to tell." Flora insists, "It would have to be something for Alfendi to confide to you. Promise me you won't bring that up in front of him."

Clive nods. "I can understand that. Losing a parent in any way is hard on kids. I've been trough it. So have you."

"I still wouldn't know what is worse. Watching your parents dying everyday. Or losing them without a warning."

Clive's head is bows with her, "I don't know. I really don't."

Flora's hand falls on his and she gives it a soft squeeze. "I just know it gets better," Flora nods once, very sure of this.

"What about Fernando?" Clive wonders.

Flora quickly pulls her hands in her lap and clutches them tightly, "I don't know. I'm not sure if I should even go tonight."

"Flora you have to. This is everything you've worked for." Clive reminds her, "I didn't spend these past few months on you just to have you not go to Paris. Don't you want to be there?"

"Are you that eager to get rid of me?" Flora asks of him.

"No, Cherie. I want you to succeed," Clive reassures her. His arm reaches around her shoulder tenderly, "You can't get cold feet."

Flora's face becomes stricken and she stands up immediately. Her voice rises nearly two octaves higher than she had previously been speaking, "I don't have cold feet! I'm want to go... To Paris. With Fernando. I-I... Is it hot?" Flora starts to fan herself in the heat of the sun. Her breathing has become much more labored and shallow. Alfendi instantly knows something is making her panic again.

"Flora are you ok?" Clive asks urgently.

"Fi- Fine-" she tries to say.

Clive places his crippled hand on her shaking shoulder, "It's not fine. Look at me. Breathe." He takes a deep breathe for Flora to mimic. "It's ok to be scared. It's a big step right?"

"But what about Alfendi? And the professor? What will they do without me!? What will I do without them!? I don't want to be all alone again!" She buries her sniveling nose into his chest.

Alfendi wishes he could give her a hug, but his hands were all sticky...

Clive tentatively strokes her hair and seems to be deep in pondering, "You mean... This whole time you were afraid to go?"

She wipes her eyes once with the back of her arm, "A little," she confesses.

"You're that afraid of being alone?Like you were in that village?" Clive finally understands. Alfendi can still hear her throat making weird little sounds, trying to hold back the whimpers.

She only got scared when dad left for his trips. If he went too long without calling she always assumed the worst until Alfendi could snap her out of it. Is that why she always freaked out?

But dad always came back from his adventures. Flora has always been a worrywart. The only thing that kept her from following dad around was him. She at least needed to watch over him like the hen she was. Did she really believe they would leave her all alone again? He and dad would never do that to her.

"Do you not believe they will be alright without you? Or would you miss them?"

"Of course I would miss them," Flora murmurs. "They're my family. I miss my families everyday."

"I do too," Clive murmurs too.

Alfendi dumps the remains of the fruit into the garbage bin. He ought to clean himself up. He somehow had gotten sticky arms as well. He dips his hands into the dish water of sink just as somebody lets out a distinguished call of distress. He turns to see his dad ha slipped in the gooey puddle.

"Alfendi? What is this?" His dad asks incredulously.

"Professor?" Flora shouts. Seconds later she swings open the door with Clive close behind. His sister gasps at him, "Oh Professor!"

Clive is shocked as well, "Are you alright, Hershel?"

"I am alright. I just took a tumble." He dismisses.

"It's my fault," Alfendi pipes up. He wishes he could dive into the kitchen sink and swim away. "I accidentally dropped a bag of fruit. I was cleaning it up."

He could just imagine her with a disapproving stance behind him. "Alfendi, why didn't you help him! You know Dad has a bad hip!"

He turns on her angrily, "I've got my own problems!"

Her eyes widen at the sight of him. "How... Alfendi what did you do! Oh my word what happened!"

Of course dad is the first to oblige in ratting him out, "He had a fight at school today with boys at his school."

"They're bullies! They can pick on me, but when they pick on a girl that's..." He almost said not what a gentleman does, but he bites his tongue. "It's wrong!"

"What bullies!" Flora demands. "And why did they hit you! Why didn't you tell me! I could have helped you!"

"Clive's been helping me!" Alfendi tells her, hoping this would at least assure her he hadn't been completely hiding it.

She shoots a pained glance to Clive. "You knew about this?"

"I... I did know some of this. But I never told him fighting was the answer." Clive justifies. Flora turns away, clearly still hurt. "Don't be upset with us! It's a boy thing. A man's pride..."

"Pride? Are you joking! This is beyond that!" She shouts at all of them, "You all lied to me!"

"Flora I found out this very afternoon." Dad tries to soothe her.

"I didn't lie, Flora. I just didn't want you to worry." Alfendi tells her.

"Why! Why would you not tell dad or I, but you went and told Clive! Who did nothing about it!" Flora shouts at him.

"He did Flora! He actually listens to me! You and dad don't! You just tell me I'm wrong!"

Flora's fists clench so angrily, but he can see the shine of frustrated tears building up on htop of her eyelashes. She races up to her room and slams her door loud enough that it shook their house.

Alfendi deflates guiltily, "Now I've really done it..."

"I should have told her," Clive sighs to himself. "It wasn't my place to keep that from her."

"It's not her place to begin with!" Alfendi defends him.

"She had every right to know, Alfendi!" Clive explodes, "Your sister cares about you more than she does herself!"

"You don't think I knew that! That's exactly why I didn't tell her! She's always worrying about us more than herself!"

"Alfendi. Clive. This is no time for us to turn against each other," Dad insists, "We should give Flora time to cool down."

"We don't have time! Flora has to go to the announcement tonight," Clive tells them, "She needs to know if she earned her promotion!"

"Change of plans then," He directs with a point in the general direction of their upstairs, "We must bring her to reason."

Dad's way sounded like the way to go, but the execution fell short. Reason could only go so far and it did not penetrate her door.

"Flora dear?" Their dad knocks politely, "Do let us in please." She doesn't respond, but the doorknob still jiggles uselessly when their father tries again.

Clive becomes impatient with this before long.

Clive slams Flora's door with his entire weight. He falls to the ground in a worthless attempt to break her out of her imprisonment. "Flora! This is insane! You have to come out! After all those hours I spent on you I'm not going to miss this!"

"Go away! All of you! I'm not going!"

The guilt shakes Alfendi's adolescent voice, "But why not? You have to!"

"I can't talk right now, Alfendi." She apologizes, still refusing to open up.

"No Flora, I'm sorry!" Alfendi apologizes, "I'm sorry I got in a fight! You have to come out! You can't give up your dream over this!"

She addresses this calmly, "It's not you. Don't blame yourself, Alfendi. I'm not hiding because of that. I just don't want to go. They can tell me if I received the promotion tomorrow. They won't strip away my new job for not attending. I'll just call in sick."

"Yes you are going! Flora Reinhold never calls in sick!" He refuses to let her have her way. He is going to get to Flora.

Alfendi takes a step back and examines the problem in front of him carefully. Dad always said critical thinking was the key to success. If they couldn't get it open the usual way... Then this called for more drastic measures.

Alfendi scrambles to his room and to the wall he shared with Flora's room. Underneath a poster of Holmes he has a dent in his wall from when he got angry from another time ago. Alfendi picks up a baseball bat he never intended to use and repurposes it for his urgent emergency. It made a fine battering ram.

Flora lets out a squeal of surprise as the plaster and dry wall and insulation leak into her room. The hole is only wide enough for him to only reach onearm in. He still has no way of reaching her.

Dad and Clive come barreling into his room. "Goodness gracious, my boy!"

His dad exclaims at the damage he had created. "Alfendi! We just talked about thinking things through!"

"I did! And look! Now we can talk to Flora!" He busts into the wall again with another smash into the wall.

"Alfendi stop! We can simply remove the knob on the door!"

Alfendi is prepared to argue for his point... But in retrospect this would have been a much better solution.

"Oh well!" He decides, "What's done is done! I solved it for now. Go get a screwdriver quick!"

"You can't do that!" Flora shouts much too far away from the hole he had just created. "Can't you just respect my privacy. I want to be alone!"

He pushes his face into the hole in the wall so that he could see her. She sits at the sewing machine with her back turned to him and her arms hugging her knees. "No you don't! You hate being alone! Please Flora, just come out and tell us what's wrong!"

She shakes her head. "I don't want to talk about it."

"Was it what you mentioned earlier?" Clive grunts as he sits down on Alfendi's bed. "About Fernando wanting to-"

"No!" She erupts at him. Something about the way she stood up so suddenly told him this was a lie. Her stricken face staring back at him revealed all.

"What about Fernando?" Alfendi wonders.

"Hmm," Clive muses devilishly, "It seems that this is a secret…"

She comes right up to the makeshift window to plead her case. "Of sorts it is. Just drop it!" Flora begs him.

"I don't know Al… you and your father have a right to know don't you think? Flora has made it abundantly clear that she doesn't like being lied to…"

"He makes a good point," Alfendi shrugs to Flora.

"Don't you dare!" she threatens him.

"What is all this then?" Their father finally returns with the desired tool.

"Oh Flora just doesn't want you to know that she is getting en-"

Flora storms into the room just in the nick of time to cut him off, "No! Stop! I broke up with Fernando!"

Clive's jaw drops. Alfendi doesn't know why because Flora broke up with those stupid models all the time. He's surprised Fernando lasted this long.

"That's rather unfortunate," Dad sympathizes, "Is the wound still a fresh wound for him?"

Flora bites her lip, "He doesn't know. I left him a letter on his desk. Because I was too afraid to…" she winces and shrinks into herself fearfully, "Turn down his proposal."

Now it is Alfendi and his dad who are shocked. His father's surprise is more unspoken, but Alfendi is verbal enough for the both of them. "WHAAAAT!?"

"Don't you think it's too soon for a marriage?" Their dad clears his throat nervously.

"I would say," Clive criticizes.

Alfendi is nearly tearing his hair out just at the thought of her being married to such an idiot. "WHAAAAAAAT!?"

"This is why I didn't want to tell you!" Flora declares. "When he finds out he is going to be so angry with me. I didn't want to face him."

Dad pulls her into a hug to calm her down. "I think you made a responsible decision. Choices like these need careful thought and consideration."

"I'm so glad you dumped him," Alfendi exhales in relief as he flops onto his bed dramatically.

"I'm not! How on earth can I face him or any of my coworkers? Once, they see he isn't my escort they will surely ask about it and I…"

"Well then…" Clive muses, "Why not have three escorts?"

"Three?" Flora tilts her head in confusion.

He indicates his hand to the one gentlemen and two rebels in the room, "We would all be honored to escort you tonight." He tells her graciously.

Alfendi's face lights up at the suggestion. "Yeah I want to see you win!"

"It would be our pleasure for us to accompany you," dad bows as if he is going to ask her to dance or something. How is that hat was defying gravity?

Flora is clearly flustered, unsure of how to turn this down, "I'm… I'm not sure if I can bring so many guests with me. There may not… be enough seats."

"Oh I'm sure they can make an exception," Clive grins, "Don't worry about seating… we can stand in the back."

* * *

_You know Alfendi... you could be the biggest screw up in the world... and you still wouldn't be as bad as the dub for Free! Eternal Summer xD (I'm sorry this is on the mind too.) _

_I hope to have the next chapter out soon! :O_


	19. Chapter 19

Flora loved her family, but having them here at the company banquet could not be any more of a disaster.

She is not the first to notice Alfendi is on his third plate of spaghetti and jumbo shrimp. He has a meat sauce stain on the front of his pristine, white shirt. And he already undid his bow tie and had tossed it under the table. Meanwhile, a crowd has formed around the famous Professor Layton. Luckily, she had kept her last name so many would be unaware this was her guardian. Clive approaches her with a glass of champaign in hand. He wasn't formal by any means either, but he still had thought to wear his shimmering silver tie with his jacket. He even styled his hair. It had started to grow out again from the haircut a time ago.

"This is certainly a party," Clive beams.

Flora cringes just from the association. She brings a palm to her face hoping to block out her embarrassment, "Those two are making such a spectacle!"

"Oh lighten up. Look on the bright side... They are keeping everyone preoccupied." He teases her lightly, "No one has even come up to bother you."

"That's... True," Flora relaxes slightly with slight relief.

"I can't remember. Did I tell you... that you looked nice tonight?"

He asks so nonchalantly as if it had slipped his mind, it probably had.

"You hadn't." Flora tugs on a loose curl and glances behind her shoulder, "Am I standing out?"

She had chosen a slate grey dress that sometimes sparkled in certain lighting. It draped over her right shoulder and flowed over her slight frame. In her eyes she thought she had picked the least conspicuous yet appropriate wear for this night.

"You kind of look..." Clive muses for a fitting comparison, "Like a goddess from ancient mythology."

Flora dips her head down and tries to cover her face with her hair. "Really? ...so I'm not hidden after all? ...I think I feel ill."

He rests a hand between her shoulder blades, "It's just nerves. And you could take a compliment you know..." Clive rolls his eyes at her.

She curtly corrects herself for the inadvertent discourtesy, "I can. Thank you."

"Then there shouldn't be a problem." With a small sweep of his hand he brushes her hair behind her shoulder again. He smiles at her knowingly, but she drops her gaze to her collarbone where... her mark is showing. She didn't feel amused... This is odd.

"Flora!" A man calls out to her. She jumps for fear it is her ex-lover. It certainly would not look good to be with the very man Fernando had been jealous over. To her relief it is the spirited Jean approaching her. He embraces her with one friendly arm, but he was also using her to keep from stumbling. Flora has only a guess that he may have been too merry with the free beverages at the bar.

He shouts much too loudly in the midst of their crowd as he approaches. "Oh Flora! Do remember me and all the other little people when you become a designer label name in Paris. You know what they say there. 'Che talor cresce una beltà un bel manto." He pauses for dramatic effect before elaborating. "That is... 'Fine clothes often make beauty still more beautiful.'"

Of course she hardly needed a translation. Still... did everyone seem to know French better than she did these days?

Flora humors him with a small giggle. "Is that so?"

"Someone like you will fit right in." He winks at her in assurance.

Flora laughs and pulls away to keep lookout still for any other nosy coworkers, "Is Velvet with you? I haven't seen her anywhere yet."

"She's... Around. We came here separately so I'm not really... Oh! It's you!" Jean adds on to his original greeting, "It's Clive right?"

"Hello again," Clive raises his glass in acknowledgement. He was much better at fading into the crowd than she. "I never did get your name this morning."

"Jean Denham," he informs him. "I got Flora her lunch today like you asked."

"That is a relief. What she packed originally was awfully experimental."

Flora turns to him in bewilderment, "And what do you mean by that?"

"Your sandwich was just unique," he shrugs, but when he takes another sip she can see he is trying not to laugh at her.

"That dish looked tasty. I wish I could have sampled. How was it then?" Jean asks her.

"Oh... I never actually got to eat it today."

Clive takes hold of her arm roughly in alarm. "You haven't eaten all day!?"

The scolding is certainly a surprise to her. "I forgot! Honestly! So much happened today you know." She reminds him.

"Go eat something right now! You have to stop doing this! You were home for hours. I could easily have made something else."

Flora pulls her arm free. How dare he treat her this way! "I'm not a child! I can take care of myself!"

"Maybe if you actually did take care of yourself-"

"-I don't need you to tell me what to do!"

"If I didn't look out for you then who would?"

"I didn't ask you to!"

Jean bystands at a distance awkwardly, "Do the tensions rise under your roof or what?" He teases them awkwardly.

"You could say that," Clive scowls at her.

"You could say a lot of things, but it doesn't mean you are correct."

"Be as incorrect as you'd like,. Cherie," And with that he abandons them, purposely disappearing in the crowd.

"Are you gonna be ok? Or is that my fault?" Jean wonders nervously.

Flora flicks her hand like she would swat away a pest of a fly. Clive could be included in the disgust today. "He's overreacting. I do eat, but I already told him I didn't feel well."

Jean slurs slightly, "Velvet seems-ta-think he's yer back up boyfriend. Or er... man on the side."

"Goodness no. We're just friends." Flora repeats, hoping the truth would actually spread. "This is getting frustrating to explain again."

"I'm not saying I agree. She always thinks there's a somebody else for someone." He tilts his glass back somberly and finishes off his dark tinted liquor.

"He's the only one I know who actually took the time to tutor me in French. Unlike the rest of you." She gives him an accusing glance.

"Hey now. Don't look at me. I know I was impressive earlier... But I took it for four years in school... That could hardly be considered expertise."

"And here I've only studied for a few months?" Flora hugs her arms to herself and closes her eyes tightly. "There is no possible way I could be fluent."

"I would have helped..." Jean tries to reassure her, "If you really needed it... But, Velvet-"

"-But Fernando knows French... You shouldn't have to. He could have done it. Why wouldn't he have wanted to spend more time with me?"

"That's something you should be asking him, not me."

'He's right about that...' She turns to tell Jean she would be acting on that advice, but he has already gone to chase after a pretty caterer with a plate of appetizers.

Fernando is found with a few of his fellow models, laughing and enjoying the party like everyone else. She hopes he is genuinely happy with them and not masking an earlier pain of the bomb she had dropped on his desk. In retrospect she could have written more of an explanation, but she had been so terrified she had not written an explanation longer than a few sentences. She clears her throat awkwardly and taps his shoulder, hoping she isn't interrupting if she took him aside. When he turns around to face her, Flora desperately tries to keep her knees from shaking. She could just imagine his betrayal or anger towards her. She had not even had the heart to tell him in person. It was wrong of her to step on someone's feelings like that...

"Flower."

He scoops her into his arms like a bride and plants a kiss on her lips so tender she would have melted like milk chocolate... If not for her utter shock.

"Fer-nanan," she stutters in surprise.

"Flora. I've thought about what you said. Such small matters... They should not ruin a love such as this. Tonight, I am your Ferny if you wish. Ferns are actually very lovely, I never knew their meaning before."

"B-but my letter? Did you read my letter?" She squeaks, much like a distressed kitten in the branches of a tall dark tree.

"A letter of love? My darling you are so precious." Fernando cradles her sweetly.

He didn't get her note? That means... 'We're still a couple!'

She is petrified in his arms. What could she possibly do now? There was clearly no break up. Was she on her way straight to a proposal? To marriage? "I need to use a washroom. I'm not doing well," she tells him frantically.

He sets her down, but she wobbles unsteadily despite Fernando to steady her. "Will you be all right?"

She nods, but everything on the rooftop is swirling chaotically like a merry go round gone wrong. She assures herself she can walk it off, but even after she collapses to the ground everything is still spinning in her line of vision.

When she wakes the floor is much more tame. It actually feels flat. The tones around her are hushed and the bright lights have dimmed to only moonlight.

"I told her she should have ate something." Clive speaks aloud.

She blinks at the familiar voice, "Clive."

"I'm right here."

Familiar strong arms pull her up to a sitting position, "You have woken. Your brother and I were worried."

"Excuse me?" Clive asks Fernando skeptically. "Who told you I was her brother?"

Flora defends his ignorance in her fuzzy yet very logical mind, "It was a simple assumption. A minor mistake really."

"My apologies. Then you are... Who exactly?"

"Just a tutor. I suppose we are like family in a sense." He grumbles at him.

Flora now sees they have left the gathering all together. Mall she can see is the dark moonlight highlighting the walls of cubicles, "What are we doing... In the office?"

"You fainted again. In front of everyone. And you ridicule us for making a spectacle." Clive criticizes her irresponsibility.

"Oh dear. Not again," she buries her face in her arms.

Fernando pulls her close to him in reassurance, "Don't be embarrassed. You have no reason. You did not feel well. It is very understandable."

"Maybe I would agree with that if I hadn't told you so many times!" He clenches his fists in frustration, but then has to ease his fingers in the cast because it is causing him to much grief.

"Sir. May I ask? How did you break your arm?"

"He fell," Flora tells him quickly, trying to make it sound like no big deal.

"For you!" Clive clarifies with slight offense. Flora's mouth falls open at these words. "You could give me some credit. I did save your life!"

"Wait one instant," Fernando pulls her closer to him, protectively, "You fell for her? "

"No! Not like that." Clive scoffs at him. "I'm the last person you should ever have to worry about stealing her heart."

He did have a point.

"And why should I believe you?"

"Haven't you told him? About me?" He asks her.

"I really haven't said much about you to Ferny," Flora replies with innocence.

"She hates me. She always will."

"You hate him?" Fernando asks of her, not seeming to believe this.

Clive motions with his hand to go on and say it, but hate didn't feel like the term she agrees with. Flora swallows a lump caught in her throat, "Yes. I-I do."

"See Fernando, nothing to worry about," he stands and pats him on the back, "If you'll excuse me, I'm going to wrestle away some shrimp and pasta from Alfendi. You could use the time alone, getting back together and all."

"Clive!" Flora shouts at him, absolutely appalled at his hinting suggestions, but also horrified because...

Fernando never got her letter.

"You are mistaken sir... We have not wavered." Fernando questions him without knowing, though now his suspicion had been aroused.

Clive glances to Flora and realizes his error.  
"Oh. Ooooooh," Clive hits the up arrow on the elevator to make his quick escape, "You might want to check on that." Flora wishes she could have jumped in after him, but then again with their recent luck...

Her ex-boyfriend, once again boyfriend, now could not seem to comprehend what Clive's snide comment really meant, "Flora? You haven't wavered from me? Does he mean that you... Found love with someone else?" He questions vulnerably.

"No! Ferny, I would never cheat on you. Not on anyone!"

"Then why? What is happening here?" Fernando requests, wishing for his right to know.

"I panicked today. I left a note on your desk because... I was afraid we were moving too fast. I don't feel I know you well enough to go off to Paris with you. It just hasn't been enough time to even consider...uh...starting a life."

For once she feels Fernando truly hears her, "Why didn't you tell me, dear?"

"I don't know... I scared myself, I think. Velvet informed me of your intentions..."

"Intentions?" Fernando's firm brows furrow.

"You know..." Flora mushes timidly, "Velvet told me you were planning on asking me to marry you."

"These words did not come from me!" Fernando declares, very much taken aback by such a surprising piece of gossip.

"They didn't?" Flora gasps at his shock.

"I couldn't! We have never discussed such things. You have not met my mama or papa. I have not even met your father to ask for a blessing. Flower, I love you dearly, but how could I ask for your hand so soon?"

Flora speculates on her own, "So... This... Was only office rumors? A misunderstanding?"

Fernando nods, "It would seem to be."

"That... Is a relief," Flora sighs, finally feeling calm for the first time the entire night.

She feels two handsome hands take hers. He kneels before her, "May I ask? In time, would marriage... Ever be a possibility?"

"I... Umm... Well, we would have to last much longer, we need stability, and there are matters for us to sort out..." Flora thinks aloud.

"Matters such as?" Fernando wonders, as he massages the back of her tensed hands.

"May I ask?" Flora sits on her knees so that she may be one the same level as Fernando, "Why did you let me hire a tutor? When you could have taught me French?"

"Oh yes," he clears his throat awkwardly and drops his gaze to his own kneecaps.

"You speak it well. Didn't you want to help me?"

"I do speak French very fluently... But my English is... Not so good," he admits shamefully.

"Your English was a problem?"

"I am difficult to understand. Many times I do not understand the words of those around me. I did not know your language before I moved to London. I have been studying the words of English... It took so long to speak to you."

Tears begin to well in her eyes at his love for her. Flora hugs his hands tightly. "...I didn't know that."

"Such an..." He searches earnestly for the words he needs to communicate, "Obstacle it is... I am still learning... And I am trying to tell you every day... How amazing I think you are."

"I had no idea the struggle this was for you," Flora apologizes.

"I try very much. I want a romance unlike any before."

"I do too."

Fernando lifts a hand to her chin. Flora leans in to kiss him, but he does not. She pulls back suddenly to see he is instead staring deep into her soul.

"You're eyes... They don't shine the way they used to when you look at me." Fernando observes.

"It is a bit dark in here without any of the lights," Flora explains logically.

"That is not what I mean," Fernando clarifies, "You have fallen out of love."

"What? That can't be," Flora insists, "You don't know-"

"-Eyes don't lie, Flora." Fernando rebukes softly, "Especially, not yours."

"But! That doesn't mean I don't care," Flora tries to assure him. Her Ferny.

He could only stare back at her and repeat his phrase, "Your eyes don't lie."

Flora wishes she could say he is wrong, but in her heart she knew it was just as he said... It was a lie.

He pulls her into his long, tanned arms. Flora somehow knew that this would be the last time he would do this. This was their real break up. The one they both deserved. She could feel in that final hug the last pluck of a petal from the blossom of their infatuation.

* * *

_This... made me so sad to write._

_I've read in the comments that whenever Fernando came up he was not liked xD and often compared to Roscoe Strapping. I will admit I had a hard time deciding whether he would be a villain or some random guy who was in the way. Neither of those roles appealed to me. In reality, this character is a helpless romantic which is pretty adorable. But, he lacks the understanding he needed to be with Flora. He had trouble understanding her way of speaking (such as the mention of the fern for his nickname Ferny. He just thought she was saying his name wrong and he was so lost as to why she was calling him that lol. Or how he was confused about which one was Flora's brother. He did care very much about knowing her family.) The language is a strain, but even so he was oblivious to most of her feelings. They didn't work. But I like each of them separately. (I'm very attached to all my characters, even my silly OCs)._

_But oh man, poor Clive is sad. Fernando too. And Flora._

_Now I'm sad. And you're sad... I'll fix this soon ok?_


	20. Chapter 20

_I wrote this chapter as fast as I could. I was told that this was needed immediately, the very next day, but I hope this is soon enough. Happy Friday! I hope you like it! :D_

* * *

Hershel and Alfendi stand guard, or rather sit on either side of an empty chair to protect a spot for Flora to occupy. They kept glancing to one another with silent worry as to when she would return. Especially, after her spill tonight.

Clive searches the crowd for her shining gown, 'When is she coming back? We're all uneasy, not knowing for certain she is alright.'

"I do hope Flora can make it soon. The announcement was to begin soon..." Hershel murmurs with a parental worry. He takes a small sip from his glass calmly.

Alfendi however, is much more restless, "Shouldn't she be up here with us by now!"

Clive resists a nod of agreement. He didn't like the idea of Flora not being with them either.

"You said Flora was with Fernando did you?" The professor asks of him.

"Yes. She's fine. He is caring for her." Clive spits curtly. He turns his fork in agitation on his untouched plate, twirling noodles around and around. His restricted wrist struggles to cooperate with him. It does not help that he is clenching his utensil in his fist in a way that proved to only make his life purposely more difficult. He tries not to imagine what he let happen once he had left Flora alone with Ferny. Did the disagreement turn ugly? Or had they made up and then some?

Alfendi observes him with the eye that not had swelled and bruised darkly, "What are you so mad about?"

He shoves the massive ball of noodle into his mouth so he could not speak any of his disgust, but he chokes in the process. A waiter soon come to his aid, "Do you need a refill on your water-" his savior stops mid-sentence when he spots an iconic top hat. "Are you Professor Layton?"

The Professor chuckles kind heartedly, "Indeed I am."

"May I get a picture with you! I mean of you! My girlfriend is a huge fan!" For some reason as he says these words Clive only begins to choke harder. He really wish he could have another glass of water...

"Of course," The professor leaves them to fulfill yet another request, "It will be but a few minutes." Apparently, a gentlemen never turned anyone down. No matter how unimportant.

Clive continues coughing. He swipes Flora's unguarded, unused glass to relieve his throat of the discomfort.

"Hey!" Alfendi scolds him. Clive gulps down the entire contents of her cup with no remorse

"It's no big deal," Clive grumbles, "That waiter can do us a favor and get us a new one after he is done snapping photos."

Alfendi shuts up again for once, and begins observing Clive again, "You're moody."

"I am not. I'm just annoyed."

"What about?" Al persists, only souring him further.

"I don't know! I just am!" Clive snaps.

The kid makes a pouty lip, "I know what you mean. I get mad when I don't know how I feel. But tonight... I'm really sad because I know Flora is gonna leave soon."

"Right..." Clive remembers, "You are going to miss her then?"

"Yeah a bunch," but Alfendi still brightens, "But at least I'll have you around."

Clive smiles, "Right."

"With Flora gone, she won't be able to say no to the bunk bed idea. And we can turn her room into something cool. I was thinking a room where I recreate crime scenes and stuff!"

"That certainly is... a unique hobby." Clive musters.

"You're one to talk. You were building replicas underground."

"I wouldn't consider that a hobby..." Clive laughs once. He flexes his fingers remembering the days before the city had been built.

The caves had been a beautiful, natural formation. It took all the money he had just to buy what should have been preserved. He soon sent construction equipment to destroy. At the time he had not regretted this, but now he can only look back and see what a monster he had been.

"I want Bill Hawks and all of London to be buried with them." This was his constant motivator. All that was ever on his mind was vengeance for the deaths of his ill fated parents.

What a lunatic he had let himself become.

"Is this seat taken?"

Clive glances up to see a beautiful woman gazing down at him. Her long red dress is stunning on her figure. Because this is a clothing design firm, he assumes she must have designed the gown herself, like Flora.

"Um... yes." Clive informs her with a shake of his head.

"This seat is for my sister... And that one is for my dad. Don't get any ideas lady." Al warns her.

"We are sitting together as a family," Clive explains with much more politeness.

Her eyes are still meeting Clive's in a coy way, "Oh, thank you anyway. Maybe I could make your acquaintance later then?" She hints flirtatiously.

"I can't say I will," Clive turns her down, "I'm not looking for anything."

"I see." She drops her gaze. It is such a pity to watch a woman with such courage retreat with rejection. But, this is still the more favorable outcome. Once she asked for his infamous name she would have retreated in terror.

He had accepted a lonely fate long ago. He would never love anyone. He couldn't involve an innocent lady in the evils of his sins. Well, except...

"Flora!" Cllive glances up immediately to see their missing member had joined them.

"You took forever to get up here!" Alfendi groans at her. She takes her seat beside him, Fernando nowhere near her side.

'Woah... Did something happen?' Flora's face clearly displays a loss. Smeared mascara shows evidence that she had wiped her eyes. Her quiet demeanor unnerves him. Her lashes refuse to lift higher than halfway. Her paled face looks as if she will be ill all over again.

"Did everything go well?" Clive pries from her warily.

"It was fine," she whispers quietly with a voice smaller than usual. Actually, it reminds him more of the young Flora he knew. She had been so meek then. Where is the new found confidence Flora usually had now?

"Can you look at me and still say that?" Clive frowns.

"Don't worry about it," she peeks up only to answer before dipping her head again.

"What did Fernando do?" Al growls, "Where is he? Do I have to beat him up?"

"Absolutely not," Flora murmurs with a bit more force, "You will stay in your seat and behave."

Alfendi slouches in his seat bitterly, "that's the last time I offer you a favor."

Their hushed whispers are soon blotted out when music begins to boom and spotlights start to send streams of color flying across the dimmed audience.

An older man with blueing hair steps up to a podium on a small, but impressive stage, complete with heavy, designer theater curtains. He taps the microphone once before ripping it from the stand. The man's white tuxedo shines like a beacon over the ocean of people in attendance.

"Ladies and Gentlemen," the stylish man addresses them, "Welcome to the Announcement Ceremony!"

Cheering and clapping follow and he has to gesture them to silence again before he can speak, "Many of you are already aware that I am your founder, Rocco Stile, head designer of my own line. Paris was my start and from there the world could only use more designs and inspiration. Many of you have gone through many trials to be selected for the running in the new promotion. I have gone through hundreds of designs from the most brilliant designing minds imaginable. Well tonight, I am here to tell you that of all my locations in the world, the designer I have selected is from this very branch of my firm! Stile Designs from this point will be under the management of a new head designer that will surely carry on my legacy!" The crowd claps again. Whoops and hollers fill the air.

'Geez. I had no idea how huge this was. Flora was competing on a national level!' Clive claps politely as he gazes to Flora. Her full attention is now on this legendary fashion idol.

"If everyone would quiet down again, I would like to read the name of our new head designer, but first some honorable mentions..."

Flora clutches the skirt of her dress anxiously. With every eliminated finalist she can hardly contain her excitement. No name he reads is Flora's.

"It is finally time to reveal our promoted employee," He brings the microphone close to his lips to speak the winners name, "And the winner is..."

His prolonged pause only lasted a second, but it felt like a lifetime.

"Beth R. Thenue!" He declares victoriously.

Alfendi's face falls in shock. He turns to Flora, frozen in place, less able to comprehend then he. Clive is not sure of how he is reacting, but he is sure he hasn't masked his reaction either.

The lady in red jumps up with her hands to her mouth in shock. Beth R. Thenue rushes to the stage with fistfuls of her dress lifted so that she may not trip or leave a golden slipper behind for those less fortunate.

"Flora?" Alfendi nudges his sister.

Her jaw bites hard and her eyes are pinned shut. He recognizes the emotion of grief immediately as she chokes on the pain, "my whole life... This is the only thing I have ever wanted..."

Clive takes her hand hesitantly from across the table."It's going to be alright."

She shakes her head and pulls her hand away to cover her trembling mouth, "No... It isn't. This... was everything i wanted in life... the only thing I wanted."

"Yes it will. Let's get out of here," Clive stands at once. He takes Flora by the arm. She tries to protest, but he drags her away from their table as fast as he can with Alfendi trailing behind.

"Wait! What about dad!" Al shouts after them.

"Find him and meet us at the car!" Clive snaps.

"Go with them," Flora tries to tell him, but her grief is already escaping her pained expression, still trying to keep decent composure.

"I'm not leaving you alone!" Clive scolds her.

"Why!" She pulls back, trying to free herself. Unlike the old Flora he had an easier time restraining, she had much more fight to put up.

"Because you can't be at a time like this. You're disappointed I know, but you'll have more chances. Let us take you home," Clive pleads with her.

"I don't want to be taken care of! Let go!" She cries, "I said LET GO!"

A tall figure looms over Clive like the shadow of a skyscraper. "Is there a problem?" Fernando intervenes.

Clive stands his ground, "No. We were just going home."

Flora shoots a sharp look to him and sends for help from Fernando, "I _don't_ want to go with him!"

"Then the lady will not," he swipes his hand between them and frees her from Clive's grip.

Flora takes off like a shot while Clive is held back by his arm, "Flora!"

The much stronger Fernando restrains him and he watches as the elevator swallows her up. "No one violates a woman's wishes in my presence," Fernando spits at him before shoving him away.

He might have been right to assume Clive was scum, but not that kind. Never that kind.

"You idiot!" He screams at him, "Do you have any idea how much danger she is in now! She may not even come home if she has her way!"

"What danger is there other than you?" Fernando demands. "She does not like you. You clearly told me."

Clive reflects on his own depression and can only imagine one way to truly escape it for good. "I didn't trust her being alone because... I don't want her to get hurt! She is being irrational. I don't want her to do anything hasty! You have to let me go to her!"

Fernando gapes at him in shock, "You care so deeply for her well being." His grip loosens at his mistaken assumption, enough for Clive to rip free from his superior strength. Clive races after her, but by the time he waits for an elevator to return to the rooftop he knows she is long gone.

He falls to his knees in despair. The two members of her family that would be lost without her in their lives come up to him to lift him up. He is not the one who needed the consoling. He couldn't let anything happen to her. He would never forgive himself.

Clive paces the floors upon return to the Layton residence at the latest hours. Layton and Alfendi watch him silently from the couch, hoping she would walk through the front door. He suspects he will see the dawn arrive before he ever saw Flora again.

"I don't know what to do. I shouldn't have let her get away." Clive blames himself.

"No offense, but you can't fight well," Alfendi judges him.

"I was at the disadvantage, wasn't I?" Clive shakes his fist not in the cast.

"It could not have been prevented. Flora used her cunning to get away from us," Layton deducts.

"Us?" Alfendi critisizes, "You weren't even there!"

"I did not suspect such occurrences to unfold." Layton defends, "I even had a cake made to celebrate. I suppose I should cancel that order..."

Clive is not about to get dragged into a useless argument, "I'm going to go look for her again."

"You already went out," Hershel reminds him, "You need rest as well."

"Not until Flora is back in this house!" He throws an old red cap over his head and slams the door behind him.

Streetlights illuminate a shady path for the shady criminal. He circles a route that hit the major checkpoints that Flora could intersect on the blocks nearest her home. No buses were running this early in the morning, but he still passes the shelter of the bus stops. There, he finally spots a lone figure shimmering in the darkness under the light post. She sits on a smooth bench as properly as one could with such sagged shoulders and her fists clenched in her lap.

"Thank goodness. Oh thank goodness." He repeats with tired relief.

He strides in front of her, but she makes no indication that she has seen himl. She has removed her partyshoes and her bare feet rest flat on the cool sidewalk. He supposes she doesn't mind him sitting beside her because she doesn't attempt to run again. He slowly pulls her into his right shoulder and her fingers cling to his jacket as she releases her pent up emotional agony.

"I wasn't even one of the designers Rocco considered, Clive! I'm no good, I never was. I still am the lowest on the totem of my industry. That's where I belong-"

"-Stop that right now!" Clive stops her, tightening the hug. "You are good enough." Flora offers no rebuttal accept to sob harder into his coat.

He waits until she becomes too tired to cry and pulls away to ask with a soft tone, "Do you want to go home yet? I won't force you."

"Yes..." She wipes off the last of any make up that had been on her face tonight. Her nose is very red and her eyelids were a bit puffy, but she is still a rose. Or maybe she only smelled of one.

Clive takes her arm gently this time and pulls her away from the miserable bench and back to a home where peace would calm her mind of the new, disappointing memories made today. At least then she could curl up in a comfortable bed and sleep off this depression well into the next morning. He never had such a luxury.

The porch is still lit when they return. Clive pushes the front door he had not locked or bothered to close. No electricity inside is being used, indicating that Alfendi and Hershel must have retired for the night.

"You ought to get some rest..." Clive whispers.

"I'll never be able to sleep." Flora shakes her head, "Can I just stay down here with you?"

"With me?" Is she joking? That had to be a joke.

"Could we watch the tele?" Flora bends down to search for the missing remote.

She find's the clicker in the Professor's arm chair. Alfendi must have left it there. Clive settles into the couch lazily, "You do realize it's four in the morning? There wouldn't be anything to watch."

Flora turns her attention to the clock on the wall, "Is it really!?"

"You were gone for hours! Where were you? What if someone snatched you!?" Clive denounces her stupid actions.

Flora dips her head in shame, "It wouldn't be a first."

He winces, 'Way to defend your argument, Clive.'

Flora sits down beside him, recalling such times, "Don Paulo in Dropstone where he locked me in a barn full of cows, then you in the Underground London, and then there was that incident with Descole... Oh where was that..." Flora trails off trying to remember the hazy details.

"-wait a minute!" Clive gapes at her. "How many times have you been kidnapped!? I'm not the first person to take you!?"

"No," Flora admits, "I was the weak little girl of the group. Villains always targeted me between the choice of Luke or I."

Clive is baffled by her unfairness, "Then why are you so mad at me!? Why not hold any rage against Don Paulo or Descole?"

"Well your betrayal hurt particularly!" She insists, "I'm still not fond of Paul. Although I suppose so should forgive Des consider he is the Professor's kin."

Clive comes unhinged at her reasoning, "It's different and you know it! You are more than sore at me! Tell me why!"

Flora turns her face away and crosses her arms bitterly, "Because maybe you allowed me to grow fond of you beforehand! You were kind to me and pretended like I mattered to you! But I didn't."

"How can you be such an imbecile!" He accuses.

"She pushes away from this so called comfort, Excusez-moi!?" She shouts back at him.

He is sure their shouting is loud enough to wake the others, but even so he can't tone down his anger, "You mattered more than the rest of them combined! That's why I saved you! Even if all of London fell on top of you that dome was so strong it would not have shattered!" Clive chokes on the thought of her loss then and now, "It was the only way I could protect you. I knew you deserved more. You still do."

Flora gazes at him in awe with more understanding then she had ever known, "You didn't just take me because I was the easiest?"

"Why should I have bothered at all!? Your father would never have dared to try to break into my fortress if you weren't in it. I would have gotten away with everything! I took you knowing he would come after me."

"But why?" Flora sniffles.

"I was out of my mind. I terrorized all of London... I was a very evil and hate driven person... and yet out of all the people I didn't want to perish. I couldn't stand the thought of crushing you underneath all that rubble."

"That isn't fair! Everyone else's lives matter just as much as mine. Why did you choose me out of all those people!?" Flora asks him.

Clive tears up at this, "I was only interested in saving those that I felt were too good for London. I wasn't worried about the Professor and Luke getting away. But you... You're so perfect Flora."

"I'm not perfect," Flora rebukes him.

"But you were so delicate and innocent. If I didn't take you, what motivation would I have given to give the Professor a chance to stop me? Towards the end I started to realize that maybe I was wrong. If I didn't make it personal then all of you would have surely died. I may have lied to you, but to say I was a good liar is incorrect," he tells her this with much certainty, "I truly was alone for the majority of my life. I never had any friends. Not since Constance, Cog, and Spring. The professor treated me like a colleague. Luke looked up to me. And you... You were so loving to all those around you. Even though I never anticipated making your acquaintance, I was glad you were with us too. Because you really were my friend, mon ami."

"You sure have a strange way of showing your friendship," she finally smiles feebly.

Clive grins too, "I think for my next scheme I'm going to steal Paris for you."

Flora giggles, "Please don't do that."

"Oh, but I still think you have a chance to make it there in the fashion biz."

Her eyes are still wetted by tears, but they out sparkle any sadness,"You do?"

"I'll be your teacher until you get there," he promises.

The feeling of a nice girl wrapping her arms him around his abdomen filled his chest with a warmth he had never felt. He had never felt closer to anyone else before.


	21. Chapter 21

The swelling of Alfendi's eye is his first discomfort upon waking. He turns to see his clock, displaying the digital time of 6:14.

Ugh. Too early.

He blinks away the sleep from one eye, but his other is so swollen it will not open. Rubbing away the tiredness he soon realizes is a tragic mistake. Tears well in his eyes painfully. He stumbles out of his bed in his near pitch black room. The sunlight is barely creeping in behind the blinds. It was difficult for him to find the knob on his door without any light from the outside. Layton's were notorious for their snoring habits and Flora insisted on their doors remaining shut. He had no idea how she would prevent the sound from entering through their damaged wall that now untied them...

Alfendi holds his eye and carefully steps down each step with more care than usual. The bruise on his eye only left him a slit to see. Maybe he could sport an eye patch from now on. Maybe then no one would mess with him. Because tough guys wear eye patches.

He turns to the kitchen to get a bag of peas this time instead of something that could be smashed so easily. He places it over his face and exhales a sigh of happiness at the cold sensation of pain relief. He blindly walks back towards the general direction of the foyer so that he may return to a lazy slumber for another few hours. He locates the banister, because of course he has the layout of his own home memorized, but the lack of sight isn't what stops him.

It's something quiet. It's soft like the drip of a faucet, but without a steady, logical rhythm. He lifts his lumpy eye patch off his slit and upon discovering the source of the sound he nearly throws the icy veggies at the culprits.

A scream emits from him, thoroughly startling the two kissing fiends. They each jump back from one another at least three feet. He doesn't know why they would have wanted to be so close to one another in the first place!

But he had seen it all. Clive with his hand in her hair and Flora with her arms around his neck. Kissing. His sister and Clive? Clive and Flora!? How is this possible?

He falls to his knees dramatically and clutches his face, "NOOOOO! This is all wrong!"

One of them shouts. "Al-Alfendi!"

"Agh! I have to boil my eyes!" He cries.

"Don't say things like that!" That one is definitely Flora.

He lifts one knee to stand, but he is still so blindsided that he can hardly function, "What is the matter with you two!? You can't... You can't do... THAT!"

"It's not what it looked like!" Flora's voice rises in panic, but her blush is so crazy that he knows that there really isn't any way to do so. Clive offers nothing valuable to the story as well.

"It just happened. I-I..." He insists, "I was sitting here and-and her there... But-"

"-You! You're dead to me!" He points to Clive in accusation, "I can't believe you! How could you kiss my sister!? MY SISTER!"

Clive's jaw drops in shock, like he can hardly believe this is what he deserves, "I didn't mean for this to happen!" He tries to plead with him.

"I hate you!" He screams at him before abandoning them without a speck of guilt on his conscience.

Flora chases after him without relent, "Al! Wait! Please!" But he does not want to be rational about this. He ducks in his bed and under his blankets that Flora promptly tugs on with him still attached to stubbornly. "Alfendi! Talk to me!"

Even from under his cover his voice clearly rings with rage, "GET OUT!"

"It didn't mean anything. I don't know what happened. I guess I felt so bad about myself that I-I..."

Alfendi pops out from under his covers like an angry badger from his den. "Felt like kissing the person you've hated for ten years?"

"No! I would never!"

"Then why did you!?"

"This is a misunderstanding! I don't know how to explain it to you!"

"You can't! You snogged Clive!"

Flora's face was already red, but having her wrongdoing put into such crude terms only makes her blush spread like wildfire. "We did not snog!"

"Really? Why don't you tell your golden apple that!" Alfendi accuses her.

Her strange birth mark was showing brightly without fade. But her discomfort is evident. She certainly isn't laughing..

"What's going on?" She scrubs against the skin trying to blot it out. She scratches away at it in a panic when it no longer disappears after a few seconds. The area around it is red, but the mark is still evident. "It's not going away!"

He watches Flora continue to try and make the apple go away to no avail. He knew well that it only made an appearance when she was happy. When she was actually happy enough to laugh.

No... This can't be. Did Flora... Love Clive?

"Al, Al, what do I do!?" Flora begs him, "I can't fix it!"

He buries himself under his blanket again, tears welling up again, "You definitely can't fix what you've done!" Al concludes, "Just get out of here!"

She doesn't retreat right away, but when she does he can hear the door to her room slam shut. She has forgotten all about the large hole in the wall. She sits against her door and he sees her silently whimper with her head in her knees.

About this time Clive knocks on her door to figure out how the negotiating had gone to change Alfendi's opinion of them.

His disgust is permanent.

"No! Don't come in!" She quickly locks the door, but despite eliminating the entrance she covers the mark with her hand.

Clive can hear her distress as clearly as Alfendi can see it, "Are you alright?"

Flora desperately tries to cover the mark with the concealer on her vanity. But even the thick make up on her vanity couldn't hide the gold tint. It seemed to be getting... Golder.

"No," she admits with defeat, "No. I can't talk to you right now. I need space."

"I... understand," Clive says to her. He lingers a few moments and dares to step aside from her door and into his room. "Alfendi-"

"-SISTER KISSER!" He yells at him.

Clive sighs and tries to sit beside him on his bed, "I did and I'm sorry."

Al throws his blanket at him with hatred, "You kissed her, Clive! I can be mad at Flora, but I'm stuck with her! But you! You aren't family anymore!"

Clive's eyes close with regret. His casted hand clutches at his heart. As if it could break. Yeah right.

"I am your friend." Clive insists, "I do consider you a brother to me."

"Go away! You'll both be lucky if I don't rat you out to dad when he gets home!"

Clive asks, "Where is he?"

"He went out in his car looking for Flora too, but I don't remember him coming home. I went to bed after you two left. When he is home you are both toast!" He shouts at him.

"Well I think I'm already dealing with the worst of the Layton wrath." Clive mocks him. Though, he still has a nervous tremor in his voice of how he would explain this to dad.

"Just you wait!" Alfendi warns him.

He turns his back on him to exit. Al decides to do the same, but he can only stare at the wall when he does this.

He couldn't believe this. He just couldn't. Never would he have imagined it. How could they? Where were the signs? Had he missed them all? Had he been blind all along?

"Some detective I'll ever be," Alfendi whimpers with his face in his pillow pitifully.

* * *

_You wanted Clora fluff... but at what cost?_

_Jk I was doing this all along. Mwahahaha. _

_Yup. Stay tuned._


	22. Chapter 22

_Dang. You guys got really mad. __Don't hate me just yet. I'll let you know what happens._

* * *

"A week you say?"

"This mystery is of the utmost urgency. I am so glad to hear you managed to locate Flora."

Clive tugs at his collar, "Yes, she was fine. I think she is still upset though."

"Do take care of her while I am gone." Hershel requests.

"Uh huh." Clive coughs guiltily, "Can do Professor. I will be seeing you later then."

He hangs up abruptly before the professor can have a chance to mention Flora again. How exactly was he going to explain the defiling of his daughter? At least he still had time before any gentlemanly wrath could follow.

Clive sits at the table with a mug of coffee. He didn't know what else to do now that he had ruined two relationships, so he decided to at least settle his stomach with a spot of breakfast. His brotherly bond with Alfendi had sunk. He never believed his friendship with Flora could become more awkward until now.

Caffeine was not settling his anxieties in the slightest.

Flora emerges, who must have been attracted by the scent of the heavenly brew. She no longer wears her goddess gown. Her hair is tucked in a scarf as if she is hiding in a very shady way. A turtleneck hugs her chin and it is the first time he has ever seen her in a pair of jeans and sneakers.

She pours herself a cup and sits down silently across from him. She can't decide if she wants to confront him or not. Her eyes want to say something one minute and the next she is peering down shyly into the warm liquid with her scarf tugged tight. Her face is so red, but he is unsure if the overheating is from the atmosphere or embarrassment.

"Flora? Excuse me, but... Que se passe-t-il? Qu'est ce que tu portes?" He rudely questions her clothing choices.

Flora darts a dirty look to him, "There's no need for language like that. It's a sweater I haven't worn in a while. I'm a little cold."

"I see," but what Clive actually sees is nervous perspiration beginning to bead on her forehead.

"Wonderful weather we are having today..." Clive offers lamely.

"Please, no small talk," Flora asserts in her quiet tone. "What are we going to do about what happened?"

"Our kiss you mean," he directly comes out with.

Flora's cheeks shine a red hot red. "Yes. That."

"Did Ferny ever get you so flustered?" Clive wonders mischievously.

The heat spreads to her ears. She tugs of the scarf again to cover them. She was definitely embarrassed now. "Don't change the subject. That's not the point!"

"Oh? Then what is?" Clive asks with a brow raised.

"What happened. It was a mistake... It's not going to happen again. You have to swear to me."

"That I'll never let you kiss me again?" Clive taunts.

"I did not kiss you! You kissed me!"

"I clearly remember you kissing me first," she is about to argue, but then he taps his cheek, reminding her of a kiss from anther day.

Flora clenches her little fists, "That was an accident and you know it!"

"You seem to be having a lot of those," he spits mockingly, "Either way, you did kiss back, so don't try to pin this all on me."

"I'm not Clive! Be serious!" She scolds him, "Please! You have to promise me!"

Clive frowns in defeat, "Fine. We won't kiss again."

Flora wipes her forehead in relief with the end of her scarf, but he does not share the same emotion after settling this deal.

"I'm glad you understand how important this is... I accept your apology." Flora tells him with earnest.

It is true he had felt guilty about a lot of things. But making out with Flora wouldn't be one of them.

"But I wasn't apologizing," Clive corrects her, "Why would I?"

"Huh? What do you mean by that?" Flora asks.

"If I could go back and change what happened... I would kiss you again. That's all I'm saying." Clive admits with a sigh.

"What!" Flora's eyes widen with shock, "But why!?"

"You're going to hate my reasoning..." But Clive stares directly in order to make his thoughts known, "Is it so terrible for you to believe that maybe I enjoyed it?"

She stands up immediately as if she wants to flee, but she slams her hands on the table in outrage, "Take it back! You can't mean that! Please tell me you don't mean that!"

"Flora... I'll only say this once..." Clive can finally feel his own cheeks warm with humiliation, "But I think... I care about you... A little too much."

"No! Clive!" She shouts at him, "Alfendi is right! U-Us? Together? It's so twisted it... It... Doesn't even make sense!"

"Since when do emotions or love for that matter make sense? I don't think we are all that different really... You're just so much more good than I am. "

"Love? Love!" Now she paces the floors in her fright. He could sympathize with the fact that he really had sprung this on her, but... Could she at least spare his feelings? Despite what some believed he did possess them.

"Clive, I can't love you! Not after all that's happened between us!" Flora shouts at him with such despair. Why did he always have to be the cause of her deepest pain?

"Alright... A simple, 'I'm not interested' would have sufficed." Clive gathers their dishes. He pours what remains of his dignity down the drain. "This is my fault... I mean I started all this right? I hurt you... Now you've hurt me. Are we finally even?"

She takes his hands again. Why does she always do that? Especially now that she is pushing him away, "I don't want to be even... Not if I hurt you."

He tries to glance away, "Yeah well, it comes with the rejection."

Flora rolls her eyes insensitively, "You can't honestly be in love with me after one kiss."

Clive shrugs, "Maybe I can if its the only one I've ever had."

Flora hugs her sweater to her tightly as she steps back from him, "That was your first kiss?"

He can't resist a smack of sarcasm, "Sad isn't it?"

"It isn't," She tries to lie for him.

"It is."

She buries her face in her hands, "Clive, I'm so sorry."

He reaches out to her instinctively, but the close, comforting contact had already been too much for them once. "It's ok," he sighs. He rests the hand on his shoulder instead. "I think... I want to watch your television for a while... And forget this whole thing."

"I will be outside tending the garden if you need me..." Flora tells him.

"Please go change first."

Of course she doesn't. And he doesn't push it farther, because he is trying not to care. The remote feels weightless in his heavy hand. He slumps on the couch with lazy worthlessness, not even caring about the programs playing. He finally flipped the channel to a knitting woman's crafting show. She vaguely resembles Spring to his defense.

But who had really kissed who? That's what he could not pinpoint. He can hardly remember the snog session with Flora in his current recollection. A pity it is if it wouldn't be happening again... He could only remember the sensation. How warm she was, how he wanted to be closer, but his stupid cast was in the way separating them. At first, his lips had started out very soft and uncertain on hers, or hers to his, but they soon found a spark that had ignited the passion.

But what had been the spark?

They had been talking all night. Flora had curled into his side and they both had been tuckered out from the night so he didn't necessarily feel like being rude and pulling away. However, now he recalls this is the first time he felt that warmth he now finds he enjoys so much.

"Do you really think my designs are any good? Maybe I'm an over ambitious amateur," Flora had been thinking aloud for him to judge.

"I don't know fashion, but I still stand by what I said. That Stiles is an idiot."

She yawned into his shoulder and wiped her eyes, "But I want to know what I did wrong..."

"Give yourself a break, Cherie. Do you have any idea how many applicants that man would have sorted through if every designer in the world was trying to replace him? So he probably chose someone with more experience... In time they will see their blunder."

"I wish I could believe that," she mumbled.

"You really made something of yourself. I still can't believe how much you've changed... You've really grown as a person."

"I have?" Flora asks him with wonder, "What did you think would become of me?"

He yawns, trying to remember what he had been anticipating, "I suppose I still wanted to meet the shy, polite adventuress I had met so long ago."

"Oh." Flora murmured sadly, "So... You didn't expect much from me?"

"Don't be blue over something like that." he stops her, "I hardly knew you. I had no idea of your interests in clothing or cooking," he laughs at this unable to help himself, "But I did always peg you as being close to your family. More so than I originally knew. I never guessed it would be you to open that door that day."

"You didn't?"

"I didn't know you still lived in this home. I was going to find you next after I spoke with the professor. I believed it to be possible that by now you would have married and had your own family."

"No no." Flora shakes her head, "I've always focused on my career."

"So I've noticed." Clive nods.

"I never gave any of that much thought. Its... not too late for that, is it?" Flora began to tug on her hair the way she did when she started to upset herself, "I mean... I think I would love to have my own children. But... I'm already twenty-five! And I've broken up with another boyfriend..."

"You are still young. I'm sure the next man will be the one for you..."

Her head rested much more peacefully on his shoulder, "Do you think so?"

The arm he had wrapped around her instinctively pulled her tighter as he gazes at the wall clock absentmindedly, "I'll make sure of it."

Little had he known he had volunteered himself as the next man to fall into a romantic lapse with her.

This might have been an assurance he would have been better off not making. But then again, who else really looked out for her? Alfendi scared of her men and Hershel was never around to meet any one of them. But why did he hold so much obligation over himself for her well being?

But even that conversation had been ages old before the kissing occurred.

Where did that spark come from already!?

He suddenly recalls that they had drifted to sleep for a time. He remembers because she made a mention of how he didn't snore. Did that matter for any reason? She woke him after she had woken by whispering his name sleepily. She had snuggled her head right under his chin and closed her eyes again before whispering to ask for five more minutes.

Normally, this should have been irritating. Because everything about one another irritated them. He remembers what he had thought in that moment exactly, 'Why did he have to stay put so that she could nap on his chest?' It never even occurred to him how intimate their closeness was. But then he just let it be... Instead of being angry, he took the time to remember how awful of a night she had had before. No promotion and a difficult break up. He decided that it really couldn't be soooo bad.

It had been like a light switch. When he turned off the hate... He could only see her for what she truly was. What he didn't want to see. The kind, caring, successful, ambitious, but timid, still fantastic Flora. In the darkness of hate he had refused to acknowledge any of this, but now... It is all he could see. How exactly could he flip that switch back then? Because this love business is too consuming for his liking.

Could it be that, the spark, had been waiting all along to ignite?

Suddenly, he hears the shriek of a boy. He only spoke one word in his terror that immediately lifted Clive to his feet: Flora.

Alfendi comes flying down stairs and Clive catches him before he can wipe out when he trips over a loose shoelace.

"Alfendi?" Clive yells to him in alarm, "What's the matter?"

"She fell outside and she didn't get up!"

Al skids into the kitchen leaving marks from his dirty sneakers across the tile. Clive is on his heels as he leads him straight out the back door and to the garden.

His lungs can't stop themselves from shouting out with all his might. "FLORA!"

The woman he could now call a previous lover lies face first I the grass. Alfendi is at her side unable to do anything, but whimper. Clive nearly pushes the kid aside and he picks her up in his arms. It feels as though he is embracing a steaming turkey fresh from the oven.

"Don't just sit there! Call an ambulance! Now!" He instructs her brother harshly. He dashes back inside at his harsh words which may have frightened him more. It pains Clive physically to do so, but he throws her arms over his shoulders and squeezes her tight around the torso to drag her back into the air conditioned house. Her wet hair sticks to his neck and chin even as he lies her down on the cool tile. He takes the scarf away from her and wipes off her glistening face drenched in sweat.

He doesn't notice her blink up at him in his adrenaline filled panic at first, but her voice cracks for him, as if she is choked up, "Clive..."

He brushes her slackened hair back, so pleased at seeing her wake again. He never would take such a sight for granted, "I'm here."

"Too hot," She shakes her head with discomfort, "Water," she begs.

Alfendi stumbles in to the room while Clive retrieves the water for her, "They're on their way. Can you hang on, Flora?"

Clive sits her up against his chest and brings the glass to her lips. She downs the entire contents of the glass in a few swallows before falling back into him with weariness. "Don't worry. She's tougher than she looks."


	23. Chapter 23

_Yippee no cliffhanger!_

* * *

Even after she tried to push him away... He held her until the ambulance came. She didn't want to be loaded in on the stretcher, but he had held her hand the entire way. Why was he holding on?

She fell asleep again on the way despite her fear of never having gone to a hospital before. She does not know how she managed such a thing with all the commotion. But now the quietness of this ER room was unnerving her more. Especially with no one to explain to her what was the matter with her. Her thoughts race as she hits a button to call for a nurse. Her heart monitor races with her current phobia now taking a turn for the worse. She didn't want to be here in this scary sterile, surrounding.

An older, heavy set woman in uniform soon comes to her aid, "Are you alright, miss?"

"Yes." Flora tells her while trying to lift herself out of the bed, "Yes. I want to go home now. Take these machines off me."

"Now hold on. The doctor will be here in a jif." Flora fights her in this, still trying to sit up and leave, that is until she makes a horrible discovery.

The clothes she came in have been replaced with a thin medical gown and in the back it is not closed in any way. It is only tied in the back by a measly string at the nape of her neck. She lets out a shrill yelp at this and pulls the thin, white sheet of her bed up to her exposed clavicle, horrified to see that the neckline of this ill manufactured garment slants down in a V.

She had never felt so indecent in front of a stranger.

"Where are my clothes! What have you done with them!" She demands as forcefully as she can while she hides under her sheet like a child.

"Shhhh!" The nurse tries to calm her, You mustn't frighten the neighboring patients." Only then does she see that there is a drawn curtain beside her with someone snoring soundly only meters away.

Flora would be shaking in her boots, but she has no shoes either. Where had they gone? "He can't see me like this!" She cries.

Her golden apple might be gone now, but if Clive came she is sure he would make it return. And how could she guarantee that it wouldn't stay forever this time? It might as well be a stamp announcing her true feelings of him.

But the experienced nurse begins to lose patience with Flora's wild antics, "Dear, you need to sit up. You're straining yourself."

"Not unless you get me a change of clothes! I can't be caught dead wearing this! Not in front of anyone!" She shouts defiantly.

"You are in our care, missy! I don't care about you wanting to look cute for your boyfriend outside!" The nurse informs her sternly.

"No! Don't say that! I have to cover up! He's going to know if he sees it! I need something else to wear. Anything!" She begs.

The nurse pulls out a paper bag for her to breathe into and calmly addresses her concern, "I will go see what I can find, but you need to behave yourself and stay put. Alright miss?"

Flora obediently brings the bag to her mouth and tries to slow her rapid breathing. But once she leaves the initial panic she had before of being left alone in this room sets in again at a much more severe degree. How could she calm down if everything was so wrong and confusing? She didn't care for this so called "care" one bit.

She stops breathing all together when an unauthorized personnel sneaks into the room only a minute after her nurse's departure. "Geez. What sort of a commotion did you cause in here?"

Flora pulls the sheet over her again to hide from her unwanted crush, "You aren't supposed to be in here! I told her not to let you in!"

"I never have followed rules well," Clive reminds her with a laugh. He pulls up a seat to the edge of her bed and tugs on the sheet gently. "And you aren't prohibited any visitors."

"I'm not decent," she insists, "I don't know what I'm wearing! You have to go."

"I hate to tell you this, but what you're wearing now is more in season than that turtleneck you were sporting earlier."

Flora almost giggles at this, but catches herself. She glances down and even the thought of laughing with him makes her mark begin to shine. "Please stop talking. I can't laugh right now!"

"Oh, sorry," Clive obeys out of worry for her, "Does it cause you pain?"

She can't deny that in a way it is quite painful to hold back the natural laughter. But she _wouldn't_ tell him that.

"I couldn't find anything, miss," the nurse informs her, "Now now, sit back up please. I've already told you, once the doctor arrives to check on you he will clear you from our care."

Flora tugs her neckline as high as it can go before she emerges. She is sat up straight and proper again. But Clive is smirking in amusement and it is already making her skin boil. She tries to keep a straight face in order to not let the golden apple make another appearance. She waits for her nurse to make an exit before she can rebuke for this.

"Why did you bring me here! I don't need a doctor! Take me home now!" She shouts at him sorely.

He sits in his chair with a hand to his chin trying to cover a grin. Why did he keep smiling like that!? "You really hate this place don't you?"

"I want to go home this instant! Do whatever it takes!" She instructs him.

"So you're saying you want me to break you out, prisoner?" Clive concludes.

Flora hesitates at his word choice. "Nothing illegal..."

"Then you have to stick around... Otherwise they are going to have a bounty on my head for kidnapping you..." Clive informs her to her ultimate dismay.

"No! Nothing's wrong! I feel fine!" Flora tries to tell him.

"Now, you do." He rolls his eyes, "Do you want a summary of you initial condition?" He begins to list them off for her, just to spite her, "Heat stroke, dehydration, your blood sugar again. They asked me if you were fighting anorexia, Flora. I told them of your panic attacks. The doctor needs to see you in order to address that anxiety. He could probably prescribe something to help that."

She covers her ears, "None of that is true! None of it!" She doesn't want to believe any word he says.

"It's ok to ask for help, Flora! You can't do everything on your own!" He chides her for her negligence. "I never got any help and look what happened to me! This hospital visit is not nearly as serious as any of mine. It was almost too late for me."

"Too late?" Flora whispers fearfully. If she hadn't been afraid of this situation before, this only made her distrust the hospitals more, "What do you mean?"

He sighs, "Well you know of what Bill Hawk's goons did to me... But even so... even in prison they eventually put me in solitary confinement after I had kept try to hurt myself. I was a danger to myself because I was so depressed and they separated me because of..."He diverts his eyes in the opposite direction. "...too many suicide attempts."

"What!?" Flora gasps. She never imagined his guilt had been so heavy. She chose to believe he had never had any in all that time. She felt so ashamed of herself for assuming such awful things. She never truly had believed he had changed. Until now. The sad thing is she was discovering this far too late as well.

His eyes are still closed with the pain of having to remember that dark time, "Did I really have anything to look forward to? Could I actually live with myself after what I had done to all those people? No! I couldn't!" He shouts back at her. "But they told me that if I couldn't live with what I had done in life then maybe I should try to redeem myself. You know, help others. Instead of hurt them."

She desperately tries to reach for him, not wanting him to go anywhere. Not ever, "Clive. Why didn't you ever tell me?"

"It's not something I ever wanted to share about my time in prison." He swallows, "It was a dark time."

"You've had so many of those..." Flora realizes with grief caught in her throat. "I'm so glad you are still here."

"When you collapsed that day, when Al forced me to come to your house... That way I wanted to live... It had never felt so strong. I couldn't help feeling angry with myself because I felt that... I let it happen."

"That wasn't your fault," Flora assures him, "or Al's."

"... I knew you needed someone. The way I had. But no one had ever been there. I've tried to be there for you."

"Why do you care? I'm so mean towards you." Flora whispers, still not knowing why he was holding on.

"I said why once," Clive grumbles at her, not about to say it again as he had said before. He really would not repeat it.

She had told him not to love her. She couldn't have it! He had not even made her laugh and she is already losing the battle with her the golden apple. She could not have been more unhappy with Clive, but even so she can still feel how much he does still care for her. No one else had ever gone to so much trouble over her and she knew that.

Is this what it felt like to actually be loved by someone?

Clive notices her distress and stands so that he may take that hand that is trying to hide the mark from him, "Hey, would you quit it? Stop scratching at that."

She wishes she could curl into a ball and die, but she has to lay flat on her back as the nurse had said. "It's so embarrassing."

"Your apple mark?" Clive squints his eyes without knowing, "Why?"

"I can't make it go away When..." she gulps, not wanting to say it. 'only when you're around me.'

"Oh, I'm sure it's nothing to worry about. I always thought it was kind of cute. That it would show when you were laughing. Then I could tell if my jokes were funny or not." He teases.

"But I'm not laughing," Flora points out to him sadly. "I've been trying to cover it ever since we kissed." At this point she is sure he will piece it together.

Clive does muse over this a moment, "Couldn't you have just worn your hair over it like this?" He demonstrated by flipping a lock of her hair in front of her shoulder.

"Ta da! You made it invisible!" Flora begins to laugh so thoroughly at this, at herself. She cannot stop because she cannot even comprehend her own foolishness. 'Why hadn't she thought of that?'

Clive chuckles too. "You are really out of it..." he tells her with slight concern, "You need to take Alfendi's lead and actually take a rest on one of these beds. He seems to think they are pretty comfortable."

He pulls back the curtain where her brother had chosen to nap in such a strange spot. So that is who had been snoring. She should have known.

"Is he allowed to be there?" Flora giggles quietly, trying not to wake him.

"No one has chased him out yet." Clive shrugs, "I wish I had thought of it. I've been sitting in a waiting room chair for two hours."

"I'm sorry," Flora tells him guiltily.

"Don't. You needed the rest. You still do." Clive turns to depart so that she may.

"Clive, I-" she catches the next word she is about to say and quickly changes it before she can speak it, "_Thank_ you."

He brings a hand to the back of his head and utters a bashful, "No problem," leaving her to cope with her awful and terrifying change of feelings towards him.

She buries her pink face into the white of her sheet, 'How? How could I love him back!?' he gold of the apple already begins to die out with his absence.


	24. Chapter 24

"I'm sorry those boys did that to you," Hilda apologizes to him. Again.

"Ok already! But why are you following me home?" Alfendi gripes at her.

He walks faster down the sidewalk trying to lose her. Did she really have to make his Monday worse?

"I want a head start on our book report!" She insists.

He had planned to do the assignment alone, as always, but Hilda had chosen him and the teacher wouldn't let him out of it! At the very least, she had gotten to him before some idiot chose him. It never mattered who it was, they always stuck him with all the work. Even with those few points in her favor, that didn't mean he wanted her around.

"It was assigned today! We have time to do it at school!" Alfendi projects his annoyance.

"Unlike you, I am very busy, and I don't like to procrastinate," she informs him with a flip of her silky ponytail.

Flora is standing in the front yard in a sparkling, crocheted poncho with an old pair of sneakers. She delicately tips a watering can to the perky blooms. How have they not wilted when all the leaves from their trees are falling to the ground?

She glances up and in shock to see his faithful companion, but she is also tickled in the absolute sense of the word. She bounds to them with delight. "Oh! Alfendi you didn't tell me you were bringing home a friend from school!"

His sister examines his schoolmate while Alfendi face palms his forehead and stifles his groan. "I didn't."

"I'm Hilda," she introduces herself, "Alfendi and I have a project to do for school."

"How lovely," Flora smiles at her.

"Is dad home yet?" Alfendi wonders.

She shakes her head calmly and returns to her landscaping, "Not yet..."

But three days had passed already. The last time he called was the night he had arrived. From there things must have escalated by enormous proportions. They usually did. Most likely, he had lost any sort of connection to a telephone and wouldn't contact them again until he came home.

Alfendi hated that he had to leave her alone while at school, especially with Clive. The three of them in the house together was rather awkward. There is no other way to describe their interactions. Hardly anyone spoke to one another because there were such ill feelings towards one another. Alfendi harbored the most resentment against them for sure. Clive tried not to say much and Flora tried to avoid them by busying herself with chores.

By now, Flora should have been fully hysterical. But it no longer seems to bother her. She had become so much more calm and understanding of the circumstance. What sort of medicine had they given her to finally make her chill?

When he enters the house with his blond sidekick, Clive is sitting on his couch keeping a watchful eye over Flora from inside. One could see how dead his soul is while he stares outside the pane of glass at his sister.

Clive realizes he is staring and he turns back to the cards he holds in his hands. His fingers had healed nicely and he had his cast was replaced with a brace that still hangs from the sling over his neck. He shuffles them up, but Alfendi does not believe he intends to play anything to pass the time.

Clive lifts a brow to Hilda, "Who's she?"

"I'm Hilda," she explains again, the confidence she always kept handy as strong as ever.

"You didn't tell me you had a girlfriend," Clive winks teasingly.

She turns to him for a verification, "Really?"

"Neither did you, Clive!"

"Touché..." This shuts him right up and he returns to his awkward shuffling.

"We'll be in the kitchen, don't bother us!" He is sure those harsh words would do the job.

Alfendi throws his backpack across the table and let's all the papers fly out of the unzipped pouch. Hilda makes no attempt to push the mess aside, but simply sits in the chair with her own knapsack in her lap.

"Are you this rude to everyone?" Hilda huffs at him.

"No," he growls, "Only to people who aren't my friends."

"But you don't have any friends."

"By choice," he clarifies. She does not offer any more annoying belligerence, which is odd for Hilda.

She unloads her pristine notebook, brimming full of her ideas, "Which one of these books do you think would be fun for our project?"

"Sherlock Holmes," he suggests immediately. It is compulsive of him, but when it came to literature this is the only way to go.

"That's not on my list. I'm not sure that's in our reading level." Hilda tells him.

"Well if it's too hard for you..." Alfendi can't help his mock-filled tone.

"It isn't! I was just worried about your abilities."

"Are you joking! I've read the complete series six times!"

"Oh," Hilda blinks at him, "Is it that good?"

"It's Holmes!" He emphasizes, "Holmes, Hilda!"

"Then we will choose that for our report!" She declares victoriously, "I do enjoy a good mystery."

"Then you'll really love it. I can even save you a trip to the library. I'll loan it to you."

"Thank you," Hilda beams at him.

"Well, I wouldn't loan them to just anybody, but I mean you're sort of trustworthy. But if you don't give it back I'll hunt you down and take something for collateral. You girls probably keep cute little diaries?"

"Duly noted," Hilda smirks, "And I don't so you will have to think of something else."

"Well..." Alfendi struggles to find a threat to scare her with, "Whatever, as long as you give it back I won't bother you like those other pests."

"Maybe those boys wouldn't be so mean to you if you were nicer to them too," Hilda suggests wisely.

But wise words didn't penetrate the heads of idiots...

"That's not going to happen. They already labeled me a nerd long before. Everyone did." He tells her sadly.

Hilda raises her nose to this, "Why would they do a thing like that? Are you sure you aren't exaggerating?"

"It comes with the name. Layton is an infamous name in these parts."

"Layton..." She mulls over the name for herself, then suddenly her eyes widen when she makes the connection, "The Professor Layton!"

Alfendi claps for her, sarcastically of course, "100% correct, my dear. Bravo!"

"Oh man... You're his son? That is rough," Hilda sympathizes.

Alfendi's chin finds his palm to rest in, "Tell me about it."

"I mean you are intelligent, but the fact that you're a Layton makes it so that you have to be a nerd."

"That's why no one likes me..."

"No one likes you because you hate everything and you're a big grump," Hilda chides him with her hands on her hips.

"I have reason to be." Alfendi spits.

"Well... perhaps," she pats him on the back with sympathy, "There there, little Alnerdi."

Al squints his eyes at her with detest, "You're not helping."

It is two hours later before he finally kicks Hilda out of his house. Lucky her, because that's when Flora stunk up the house with some awful substance she called stew. Alfendi had to wait until Flora stood up to take a call because he had to plug his nose just to eat.

"Does Flora even have tastebuds?" Alfendi thinks aloud.

"It wasn't as bad it looked..." Clive shrugs, "Or smelled. It was edible."

"Says the man who wouldn't even touch her food before." Though Clive did claim on more than one occasion that his stomach was nearly invincible after years of prison grub. "Of course you're on her side now." Alfendi grumbles.

Clive shakes his head at him, as if Alfendi doesn't know what he clearly does, "We are as strained as we have ever been. I really don't think there is any fixing this now."

"Are you even going to try? I know you want to. You always have," Alfendi reminds him. He doesn't see much of a change between Clive's approval seeking compared from beginning to end.

"I honestly don't know what I will do..."

"Whatever you decide I don't approve," Alfendi tells him harshly.

"Please promise me one thing, Al," Clive addresses him with a sudden seriousness. "No matter what happens, don't push away those who care about you."

Alfendi crinkles his nose at him, "What is that supposed to mean?"

"It's good to let people care about you, and it's even better to care about others. I grew up in the most loving home so could have managed as an orphan, but the hardships kept following me. Even so, I wish I had appreciated those who had loved me before they had left me. Do you understand what I mean?"

Alfendi nods slowly, "Maybe... 70 percent, but... What does this have to do with anything?"

He doesn't receive an answer because Flora joins them again to finish her stew, but she swallows it a little too quickly, "The professor will be home tomorrow. He says he is sorry to have troubled us."

"That's good news," Clive says simply, the tension rising again as all conversation suddenly ends.

Maybe Alfendi was wrong. The greatest source of tension wasn't his anger towards them. They had created enough drama for themselves.

Dad did arrive the next morning just as he had promised. A true gentleman never broke his word after all.

Clive prepared a wonderful breakfast. Flora skipped out on entirely, though Clive did send her along with fruit to keep her strength up. Alfendi scoops down the whole plateful as fast as he can though he is in no rush to go to school. Clive eats with much more wait, toying with the small chunks he had chopped his crepe into with no intention of eating, though he had made the meal himself. The boys listened quietly as the professor told them all that happened to him. An ancient spell and whatnot brought to life, but then off course it wasn't, but he kept... on... talking...

Finally, his dad catches on that they had stopped caring long before his tale, "This may be faulty intuition, but something tells me all is not well between you two. Would you care to tell me what is troubling?"

"Oh yes, where should I start," Alfendi hisses at his once friend.

"Wherever you would like, he will find out eventually. Excuse me, but I'll defend myself later," Clive picks up his entire meal and ware and takes it with him to eat in the garden.

The rim of Dad's top hat tilts down with unease, "I was correct in my guess then. Clive seems to want me to hear this news from you, son."

"Yeah well, they won't admit it, but..." Alfendi slams a fist on the table. His hair falls over his face in his fury, "He's in love with Flora, Dad! It's the most preposterous thing I've ever seen! Flora likes him back too. Her stupid apple lights up like Christmas when he's around and... They were kissing on the couch! Gah it was so gross!"

"Hmm," the old professor brings a hand to his chin, "I suspected as much..."

"-suspected!?" Alfendi gapes at him, "What do you mean you suspected this? How could you possibly have known?"

"I've noticed them growing closer with time. On Friday night I was tipped off, with the way Flora was fretting over her true feelings for... Oh what was that fellow's name...? Even so, Clive was clearly distressed when Flora had left us. It was a theory I had instated nonetheless."

"Way to warn me! Why don't you ever share what you know? Do you enjoy the attention of being the smartest man in the room. It's hardly fair when you leave everyone duped!"

"Now, now, Alfendi," The professor soothes him with a rub over his sagging shoulders, "In hindsight I'm sure you can see the hints now working on your favor."

He pushes away from his dad in an aggressive manner, not wanting his sympathy, "No it's not! You could have stopped them! You ruined everything! Clive is going to take her away!"

"Alfendi!" But he and his backpack are gone. He goes off running all the way to school without stop. Until sweat is rolling down his forehead.

Again, he is still at school much too early that morning. He slams his fists into his locker though it has no combination to keep him out. His only satisfaction is the dents he has put into the flimsy metal door. Finally he slams his backpack into the long hallway and slips down to the floor in his frustration. There he stays using the scratchy material as a pillow until someone told him to straighten up or go to the principle's office.

He doesn't hear the silent footsteps come up to him until he gets a kick in the head.

"Ow!" He turns expecting a bully, but it is Hilda, whom is also rude, but this is mean even for her, "What was that for!"

"You're in front of my locker. Get out of the way!" He sits up just before she gives him another nudge with her pointed shoe.

"What are you doing here so early? No one is even here!"

"You're here," she mocks him. To this he had no comeback. "What's the matter? Cat got your tongue?"

"No. I'll leave," he grumbles, wanting very much to be alone.

But of course, she couldn't let him have that, "Hey. Why are you sad?"

"Just because," Alfendi shrugs it off.

She sit down beside him and leans against the line of lockers, "You can tell me."

He never was good at explaining how he felt, but he tries to sort it out loud, "My sister... too many guys fall in love with her and none of them are good enough. They just aren't. She deserves someone who knows how special she is."

"The man you yelled at isn't good enough either?"

Alfendi mulls over this a long time, "No... the problem is... he actually might be."

"Then why don't you like him?"

Alfendi buries his head in his knees, trying not to cry, "It's really complicated ok?"

"It's ok. My mum got remarried this year... That's been hard on me. I'm sure that if it's true love then it works itself out right?"

"But they caaaan't be in love." He moans "You don't even know the half of it." The kidnapping. The hate. The insults. They were a family. How could they flip like a coin and suddenly let all of that go?

"It will be alright... Wait here. I can cheer you up!" Hilda tells him. She rummages in her perfectly organized space and retrieves something he had lost and forgotten long ago. "Here's your toy car back. I took it from those boys who keep picking on you to repay you for sticking up for me."

She places the rejected toy with it's uneven paint in his hand and curls his fingers around it. But the car only brings back the memories of a friendship that had been too damaged to repair. Tears well in his eyes because he realizes that though Clive loves Flora more than him now, he still craved that brotherhood he had with him. But how could you be brothers with someone who kisses your sister?

His hands tighten into fists and he doesn't remember why, but he instinctively hugs Hilda because... He could tell she actually did care, just like Clive said.

"Hilda, no matter what I say, you're my friend ok? Girl or not." He says it now because he would probably never have the courage to tell her that ever _ever_ again.

Her nose rests on his shoulders uncertainly, but she hugs him in return. "Ok, Alfendi... We're friends."


	25. Chapter 25

_This is a longer chapter this time. I did my proofreading now. I did some rearranging to make the chapter make more sense. Sorry for all the typos earlier today._

* * *

Clive had said once, the fashion design industry would not fall apart if she were not there, but that Tuesday morning, the entire company had been flipped upside down like one of those funny pineapple cakes.

The bus cannot let her off at her usual stop because the police are blocking their way with their blinking vehicles. Outside the front doors of her building many officers and detectives are investigating. The detectives are no strangers to her actually.

She jumps off the bus and runs up to the inspector she knew well, "Chemley?"

"Oy! Flora Reinhold!" Chemley declares with surprise, "What in the dickens are you doing here?"

Detective constable Barton turns and greets her pleasantly with a warm smile that blocked out any of his partner's grouchiest barks, "To what do we owe the pleasure, Ms. Reinhold?"

"I work here... Am I allowed inside?" Flora requests, hoping that her office is not off limits. She is already far behind... But what did it matter? Without the promotion, her motivations had cooled off. All she had to do was design the winter accessories for the upcoming season. She could design such accessories in her sleep.

"You wouldn't happen to know a mole in this place?" He interrogates

"A mole? Like an agent?"

"Yes," Chimney clarifies, " Mr. Stiles is missing a Ms. Thenue's designs. They were stolen Friday night."

"WHAT!?" Flora gasps. "Without a trace?"

"Right, lamb," Chemley informs her, "We are interrogating all you employees. Care to give us your alibi, Reinhold?"

"Of course, you being Layton's girl this will only be a formality," Barton assures her with a smile.

"Oy! Barton! We can't be soft on her! There will be no special treatment!" He scolds Barton while wagging his finger at him.

"I understand!" Barton tells him immediately, "But I do trust that this girl is not a thief."

"We can't decide that without any evidence!"

"Of course!" Barton nods obediently, "The alibi would be most helpful. Do you remember what you did that evening? From nine o'clock until the next morning?"

"Of course, "Flora gulps nervously, "I left shortly after the announcement was made... alone. I went to a pub at ten o'clock. I only had club sodas because I don't drink. I left at two in the morning as they closed. I started to walk home, but my feet got tired. I sat on the bench by the bus stop near my home. Then, Clive came..."

"Clive? Mr. Clive Dove?" Chemley runs his ear with a knuckle as he is writing, but this detail he is sure he misheard.

She had nearly forgotten they knew Clive too, "Yes. He is staying with us. For the past few months actually. And... He came looking for me... To see that I was alright," her cheeks flush furiously when she remembers what had occurred afterwards. His lips over hers and his hand stroking her curls so softly. "And then I went to bed!" Flora lies quickly. She pulls on her ponytail, cursing herself for being so abruptly suspicious.

"That's a flimsy alibi if I ever heard one Ms. Reinhold," Chemley barks at her, but he keeps the statement and doesn't question her further, "You had better not have left out any details."

Her cheeks still burn, but even so she shouldn't have any reason to tell them of such matters with Clive. It didn't affect this detective work or bring them any closer to finding a thief. "I ought to go upstairs then and clock in."

"Lead the way. We're comin' on up too!" Chemley barks.

"Certainly," Flora invites them.

They follow her to her cubicle where a crowd has gathered. Blinking in surprise, she shimmies past many of them, trying to reach her desk. In the middle of this collection of people is... Rocco Stiles himself! His blue hair is combed over and shines like silk. The man is stylishly dressed in a suit of lavender and he leans on a cane of a fine cane of rosewood.

"Mr. Stiles!" Flora gulps nervously. She had never met him personally before! She never thought he would have any business to attend to in her cubicle.

He is accompanied by a few officers who are putting her designs into evidence bags. For a first greeting he evaluates her with a great frown "Are you Flora Reinhold?"

She glances at all of them and finally to Barton who is the only one abstaining a look of judgement. "Yes... But, what is going on!"

"We have found the missing designs... In your desk files. Would you care to explain?"

An officer holds up the stolen designs to her. She glances at them and discovers that they were indeed stolen. From her!

"I didn't steal these! These are my original designs that I submitted! See! Right there!" She points to the bottom corner. "That is my signature! Right there!"

"The designs I received did not have your name written there. You must have written these on afterwards."

"No! I didn't! These are mine! Not Beth's!" But constables are already putting her wrists in cuffs. "No! Someone's framed me!"

"We will have to take you to the Yard," Barton tells her calmly.

Flora gulps, but nods, "I only want to go with you and Chemley please."

"You heard her chaps! Finish your work here. We've got the suspect."

"Suspect? Isn't she the culprit?" One of them asks.

"Oy! You do your job and we'll do ours!" He scolds the younger officer. He immediately backs down and unloads more of her designs from her filing cabinet.

Barton rests a hand on her shoulder to lead her away while Chemley shakes his head. "You Layton's sure are trouble. Even if your name is Reinhold. To think Hershel's little girl would be accused of such claims. Despicable!"

"Thank you for believing me," she smiles weakly.

Barton looks her in the eyes as they ride in the elevator, "We will find proof, Miss Reinhold, don't worry your pretty little head. We are on the case!"

She rides in the squad car and is put in a holding cell. Barton took off her cuffs and sits with her while Chemley makes calls on her behalf. Flora holds a box of tissues and wipes her eyes at her misfortune.

"Will I have to stay here all night?"

"I'm afraid so..." Detective Barton nods. Flora's head falls on his shoulder.

"But I didn't do anything wrong," Flora whimpers.

"I believe that, but we need more time to get the proof."

Her afternoon is not better. Chemley questions her for hours, but her story doesn't change. The process is exhausting for both of them. The single light flickers above them when all of them wanted is the proof that Flora's story is true so they could have a nap.

She went to the pub. Clive took her home. The designs are hers. They. Are. Hers. They were stolen from her. She mailed copies of the work to Stiles in Paris. But Stiles claims that they were taken right out of his briefcase.

That's when she realizes... If those designs are hers... Then she did earn the promotion!

Flora slams her hands on the table, thoroughly startling Inspector Chemley, "We need to get Beth R. Thenue down here! She must have stolen them! She's our culprit!"

"Finally, we could have used that lead an hour ago!" Chemley grumbles, but he is relieved the questioning can end as well, "Back to the cell for you, lamb." She sighs, but follows her shepherd obediently.

Barton, however; brings good news for her. "You have a visitor! Come this way."

She expects to be taken into one of those rooms with the glass barrier between her and the visitor, but he takes her right to the front desk. There Clive had been waiting for her because he had just paid her bail.

She runs into his arms, never so thankful to see him in all her life. The impact at which she hits him nearly makes him stumble backwards with her. "Clive!"

He responds with a grunt because of his arm, but then he fully receives her, "Flora..."

She trembles "Thank you so much. I couldn't be in there another minute!"

"I figured you were too soft for this place. You would never last as long as I did," Clive almost smirks, but he is more relieved that she is ok. He places a strand of her hair behind her ear as she dares to look up at his face. He is so close she could kiss him again, but she pushes the thought aside and ducks her head into his shoulder.

"Clive thank you. How did you do it?"

He sighs, resting his chin on her hair, "It took about every cent so earned over the summer from the factory."

Flora winces at this. "Oh no. I'm sorry, Clive. You didn't have to."

"I didn't," he confirms with a shrug. Her face moves with his casual movement, "But I did."

Flora almost comments on how he didn't feel so skinny anymore. It must have been because the Layton's had taken such good care of him. She appreciates that he had returned the favor, but she should really stop hugging him.

She lets go of him bashfully to see Barton with a cheerful smile and Chemley with a stern surprise at them, already assuming what she didn't want.

'So much for keeping my affairs a secret from the police...'

Clive notices them too, "It's been a while since I've seen you, chaps! Long time no see Chem! Barton!"

"Hello Dove," Chemley rolls his eyes, "is everything still right as rain in that noggin of yours, boy?"

The detective knocks on his head and Clive laughs, "I'm hardly a boy anymore."

"You were a young kid when we arrested you," Barton recalls, "You've both grown up so much since then."

"But they haven't learned a darn thing! Stay out of trouble, eh!" Chemley glares at them sourly.

"I'll make sure Flora behaves," he grins at him.

"I wasn't worried about her!" He scowls.

"You never were one for jokes," Clive shrugs, but Barton coughs with a few chuckles caught in it.

Flora bids them a farewell as well, though she would be visiting them again soon. It would seem she would be stuck in London for the time being. She and Clive walk the way to a bus stop and stand side by side. She pulls her hand away not even realizing she had been holding his since she pulled him out of the station with her.

"I want to go home," Flora sighs sadly.

Clive glances down at her sympathetically, "You have had a pretty rotten day. So those designs that were stolen were yours then?"

"Yes, but I don't know how to prove it. Other than I wrote my name on them. But the ones I submitted did too. I don't know what went wrong."

"It's simple. Someone cut it off or made another copy without it."

Flora's pulls her hair back and the stress against her ears, "This is such a mess."

"I've made bigger ones. We can clean this one up easily in comparison. We'll get you back to your house soon."

"You're staying there too," she reminds him.

He turns his face away at this for some reason. "For now, but it's not home." Flora drops the topic, but is sad he doesn't see it this way.

Clive's arm rests over her shoulder for the lengthy ride home on the bus. This time Flora had paid. He blocks the view outside so that only he can glance at the buildings and the streets he hates so much. They don't speak another word all the way home so naturally, Flora drifts off in the large vehicle.

Boy did Alfendi have questions for her when she walked in the door. Did she do it? What was jail like? Did she do it? Who made the arrest? Who _did_ do it?

It became tiring rather quickly.

She shuts him out of her room for the night, but he carries on the one way conversation through the wall. Flora has to bury her head not her sheets and hide under her pillow. She did not want to answer another question! When exactly were they going to repair this gaping void?

With time her brother finally runs out of steam. With his criminal interrogations aside she rests her head on her pillow trying to forget her day entirely. She had almost fallen asleep too when Alfendi pipes up one last time, "Flora?"

He doesn't wait for her to answer because he assumes she is awake, "Do you love Clive?"

Flora pretends she is asleep by breathing more deeply and audibly for him to hear. It doesn't fool him, "Flora? I gotta know." He insists seriously.

She sighs, "I shouldn't..."

"But do you?"

"Can we not talk about this?"

"I think Clive loves you though."

"I know..."

"Are you going to marry him and leave me?"

Flora rolls over and faces her wall, "What? What ever gave you that idea?"

"I don't know... I just wanted to know."

"I would never do that to you. Of course, I would tell you and the professor if I planned to get married!"

"That's all I wanted to know."

"Silly boy," she reaches her hand through the wall to ruffle his red curls. For the first time he doesn't gripe at her, "Get some sleep, Alfendi. I love you, ok?"

He yawns in reply, restfully assured, "I love you too, Flora."

She loves that boy with all her heart, but the questions he thought up! Kids sure did have crazy imaginations!

But his misunderstandings, delusional as they may be, now have her staring up at her ceiling unable to make a wink much less sleep. How could she? What did he mean by this? Did he know something she didn't? Or is she paranoid?

She is most likely not going to be allowed into work tomorrow... Why not stay up a teensy bit longer and ask Clive herself?

She knows it is a terrible idea even before she has it completely thought up, 'No, no... I really can't. Our relationship is a strain as it is. These mixed feelings will only become worse if I ask about something like that.'

* * *

_I'm sorry I've rearranged this chapter so many times today. I should have waited a bit longer to upload. Some content I just took out and I feel it will be better placed elsewhere._

_That last bit with Clive I am going to do the next chapter from his POV and actually extend that further. It would make so much more sense that way. _


	26. Chapter 26

"I'm sorry that I had to bother you both like this..."

Clive wipes away salty raindrops from his cheeks. One escapes and plummets into the crevices the wooden box resting on his lap. The rotting would pays no mind to this insignificant moisture, already having decades of soil caked into the beautiful carved engravings.

"I thought that while you are here... You should know that I really care about her... Enough to put her needs before you... Mum and Dad. I've never put anyone before you until now."

Chemley had been so wrong about him today. Very very wrong. He is not right in his head. He is as soiled as a mud puddle. But he must have masked his pain well because... His insanity had more or less taken the reigns and had abandoned any moral path for miles.

"But I have to let her go... for your sakes."

The guilt had already chewed a whole through his stomach. He clutches the box to his abdomen trying to fill that empty void of remorse he couldn't ignore. 'How am I going to live with myself after this?'

He rests his hand on the lid a moment longer so that he may at least try to sleep. He had not slept the entire night. His restlessness seems to correlate with theirs in spirit. He hopes he can rise early before the rest. His disappearance would be as sudden as his arrival.

"I'll find you a new place to rest tomorrow, Mum and Dad," he reassures, "One much more beautiful than where you were... Somewhere safe. Don't worry, I will never let anyone hurt you again. We can all have a fresh start."

"Clive... Is someone here?"

Flora stands meters away on the stairway, almost as if she is afraid to approach him. Not for the old reason, but because his behavior is rather... dotty. No true people are before him that she can see. Not unless his parents' ghosts planned to make an appearance. She almost appears to be one herself in her light nightgown.

He sits up immediately on his couch, "No! No one is here. I am talking to myself. Sorry to trouble you."

He tries to shove his parents underneath the gap of the couch with his heel, but she spots what he is trying to conceal. She ventures nearer, her curious nature peeking through, but he stands in her way, "Whatcha got there?"

He holds his hands up as if he will push her right back upstairs if she comes any closer, "Nothing. It's my belongings."

She crinkles her nose, clearly bewildered by his behavior and cranes her neck to see around him, "I don't remember you having anything like that..."

She sits beside the couch, folding her legs under her night gown in a lady like fashion. Her nose crinkles again, but with distaste when she pulls out the box and crumbles fall into her lap.

Correction: it was ash. Their ashes. On her skirt.

"Oh! What is this? Why are you bringing muddy things like this into the house?!"

"I need that! Right now!" He shouts too frantically, not too keen about her picking up the most precious treasure he had left. He is immediately by her side desperate to claim it back.

"For what? You should really throw this out."

"NOOO! You can't! Please!"

She squints her eyes, but finally relents. She hands it over to him because she senses his clear distress. He hugs the dirt-covered vessel to his chest with his knees tightly. Much like a child, his lip quivers and his glassy, lifeless eyes try hard to hold back this continuous mourning. Even now he would grieve their death. He would always be grieving.

"Clive? Are you alright?" She rests a hand on his that still holds his box much too tightly, "What is this?"

"My parents' casket," He whispers in a breath.

Skin like porcelain somehow pales more than his had when he had thought her own parents were buried in their backyard. Her grip loosens immediately, but still comforts his shaking hand.

"There... Wasn't much of them left. I have most of the ashes they could obtain," his hands begin to shake and hugs them, so in need of any existing love still between them, "Who gives a ten year old boy his parents in two urns!" He cries.

"Clive." The way she says his name already tells him she understands. He clutches her hand, needing the empathy she could offer him as well.

"Look at me," she insists, holding his chin in her small palm, "Don't ever feel that you should forget their memory."

"I? Forget that evil that is Bill Hawks? Who killed innocent people and destroyed lives other than my own? Never!" He satires. Flora coughs uncomfortably at his malicious humor though he really isn't jesting.

"My point is that... Though you should still remember them... you shouldn't let the memory of them be so sad."

"You're right." He laughs once because of course she is. "Sorry, I-I think I need to clear my head." Clive tells her abruptly.

"Alright," she smiles, "When will you be back?"

He scoots away from her. "Uhhh... It's hard to say... It'll be a while."

"Is something the matter?" Flora squints, again to keen on noticing when he wanted to hide something, "There is isn't there?"

"No no. I just... you know I think I'd like to take a walk."

"A walk?" Flora repeats. Clive stands abruptly to do just that...as fast as he could. Flora starts to get up to join him.

He stops her by pushing a hand to her shoulder, wanting her to stay back. "I wanted to clear my head. I'd rather go alone." She blinks up at him with slight hurt at his curt dismissal of her company, but this is still better than witnessing how he is about to hurt her again. "Thanks for understanding."

He strides out the door without her, past the Layton's garden, and onto the pavement. He is almost jogging, hoping he could escape tonight with no more questions.

Despite his efforts to leave her behind, Flora quickly catches up and keeps pace. He has aroused too much worry for her to stay back and sit idly by like he had wanted. "Why do you have your parents here? Has something happened?"

He tugs at his collar because he is breathing harder from the fast walk. The lump in his throat would never have gone down otherwise. "I don't want them in London anymore..."

Flora still gives him a look of concern, "Where will they go instead?"

"That is a very good question. I... Haven't thought of anywhere... Yet."

"Then why go to the trouble of-" he stops mid run and Flora skids to a halt though she has only house slippers on her feet.

"-Flora! I have to tell you something!" Clive admits to her. The charade is falling apart faster than he can stand.

This surprises her. Those dark round eyes of her widen with shock at such a startling comment from him. "What is it?"

He sighs hopelessly. He never wanted to say anything, but now there is no choice. "I... didn't have enough pounds to get you out of that cell. Not even with a pool of the professor's savings. I sold the land to the director. I took his offer to bail you out."

Her reaction is nothing short of an explosion, "WHHHAT! You did what?!"

"I had to! I couldn't stand the thought of you in jail! I wasn't thinking. I did it and dealt with the consequences later."

"You seem to do that often! What were you thinking!?" She scolds, but even as she sputters she starts to see what he means, "Why? Why... You did you do that for me?"

Of course he did. He loved her. He would do anything to protect her from harm. He didn't want her to be locked away in that place where he couldn't be with her. Not unless he decided to get himself incarcerated again. Out of all these words he chooses none of them. The explanation and reasoning didn't matter anyway. She knew.

He winces at the awkward span of silence that forces him to answer, "Yes."

She is still shocked at him, but she has the decency to say, "Thank you."

It is not his only reward for such a sacrifice. He earns a soft peck on the cheek from her. He immediately turns into her kiss to reach her lips. He pulls away after a few seconds before she can first, "I never was good at keeping my promises to you..."

"I was foolish for believing you would start to," she huffs at him, but she only crosses her arms and forces a scowl, "I guess we are even on the kiss count."

"So you admit to kissing me first?"

The paleness of her skin begins to color immediately, even in the dimness of the night, "Th-there is no way to be certain!"

"You're still up by one kiss then..." Clive points out.

"I don't think so. Two pecks on the cheek hardly amount to a real-"

Clive quickly evens out their score with one last kiss. The last one he would ever have.

"Stop that!" Flora pushes away, "What has gotten into you?!"

Clive sighs in defeat, "Can I be honest with you?"

Flora frowns further, "I would encourage it, yes. Fess up!"

"I can't stay here. I'm leaving."

All the anger in her expression disappears. This quickly bewilders her and her face is so cute when she is confused.

"Right now!?" He nods. "But why? That isn't necessary!"

He shakes his head, "I can't stay here."

"Why?" She demands, "What's different now?"

He paces in a tense circle. There is no easy way to get around it."You!"

"Me?" Flora gasps as if she is surprised. "It's my fault? What did I do?"

"It's mine, Flora." Clive sighs, "Things are different between us. It's... not proper for me to be here with you when I-"

She is too outraged to let him finish, "It's not proper?! Are you joking! What is the problem with us!? We only kissed once!" She suddenly recalls the few seconds prior and her cheeks flush in her anger, "It's not like it was proper for you to be living with us to begin with! What changed? This wouldn't be a problem you know if you kept your promises!"

"Don't you get it?!" He screams, "You are driving me crazy! I can't be with you! Every second of every day I want to kiss you! What even is this? I don't know if I can even call it love the way we scream at each other! I can't live like this. I've gone too far for you. I'm officially the worst son ever to walk this earth. I have to make things right again, but I never will if I stay here with you! I can't stay here if you don't love me! You never will!"

"That's not true!" Flora shouts back at him.

"Isn't it?" He scoffs, "Exactly what part of that wasn't true, Flora!"

"All of it in its entirety!" She shouts back. "You aren't a terrible son! You're the best, most caring, loving son! And you're wrong about us! Sure we fight, but I do love-" she stops herself short with a sharp inhaled gasp before she can finish.

His jaw falls in astonishment. He can hardly form a sentence after hearing this. "Flora do you... love me too?"

Her eyelids close tightly to shut him out and her hand clamps to her mouth almost as if she is in pain. She tries to run away from him in her embarrassment back to her home, but he catches her by the wrist. He pulls her into his arms and immerses her with his joy, "This changes everything!"

"No it doesn't!" she cries while she struggles to break free. How could he let her go now?

"You said you love me!"

She argues uselessly, "I didn't say it! I didn't!"

"If you love me... Will you come with me?"

She tugs so feebly within his grasp. She processes his most recent words and her struggle lessens. "With you!? Where?!"

"To Paris of course." The word Paris has made her gaze up at him with eyes shining with a long-lost longing. He lets her go, now that he has her attention. "I could continue to teach you just like before. I can interpret the rest for you. If you want to start a business there then you can."

Flora shakes her head quickly, "Don't be ridiculous. What about the job I have?"

"The job that has treated you so well?" He criticises. "The one that stole your designs and blamed the victim? Are you really going to fall into their trap? I could buy you your own company! You could be the CEO and live your dream!"

She fidgets at such a suggestion, clearly uncomfortable with it. "What about Alfendi and the professor? I couldn't possibly leave them. They are my family."

"I know how important they are to you. They are important to me too. We would visit as often as you like... But don't you want to start your own life?"

"I can't do a thing like that! I have a plan. I always have. I earned that promotion! Once I prove it of course. I'm going to Paris anyway. If I choose."

"But it's not necessary anymore. Beth can have it for all I care!"

"I care! I'm not running away with you! I don't need your money to buy my success for me! I can do this on my own!"

"Of course you _could_," he agrees with a mocking tone. Clive does turn around his sarcasm though to support her independent spirit fully.

"You can do it," he clarifies, "But... it's easier to let others help too. I do believe in you Flora. Your work is amazing! We can start from the beginning. Start it however you would like."

He can almost see the gears turning in her head. She can see it too. He knows it.

He whispers, almost pleading, quietly to her, "I want to start a new life. I want it to be with you."

At the sound of his voice again she snaps out of the daydream. "Well if this isn't the most ridiculous suggestion you've made all night! This whole scheme of yours... It's crazy! I can't go running off to Paris!"

"Isn't it every girl's dream to be whisked away by a man to Paris?"

"That only happens in the novels Velvet reads. This is real life! And it's insane!"

"Well... I'm determined to go. If you want to be with me I will stay as long as you like, but if not... then I can't. It's up to you."

She can't seem to think of anything else to say. Her excuses have run dry, yet her refusal is still strong. "I can't, Clive. You know I can't. There is still so much... so much in the past that I can't forget. You took me once and you left me all alone..."

"I know. It was wrong. Especially because you are so terrified to end up alone again. That's why you don't want to leave the only family you have. But Flora," he takes her hands in his trying to convince her to believe him once more. If only once. Because, this time he means every word, "I've never cared for anyone the way I've come to care for you. I'm never going to leave you behind again. If anything... I'll be behind you in all that you do... What do you say?"

He knows her answer before she says it. The tears spill from her eyes, the eyes of the young scared girl he had once taken every ounce of innocent trust from, "I just can't, Clive! I can't do it!"

He knows she's right. He is a fool for ever believing she could forget their past. "I'll miss you, Flora."

Her beautiful eyes, they stare into his once more, "Don't."

He shakes his head, "I have to if you can't love me."

"Don't go!" Flora nearly begs him, "We care about you! I care!"

So she really did love him. But... he can see it is destroying her to do so. Even in love he is still a monster to her. She was still afraid of him.

"Tell your family... That I thank them for everything." Flora's face falls into his chest and she shakes with emotion, sniffling pitifully.

"Don't-don't cry... This is what you wanted, remember? I'm finding my own way. This will all be for the best. For both of us."

"It isn't and you know it!" She accuses. He releases her tiny, gentle hands.

He waves to her one last goodbye, hating to leave her like this. "I'm taking a boat to Paris at noon if you change your mind. I'm sorry... For everything."

In response, she whispers three words.

Three words that mean more to him then her half-confession of a love she couldn't reciprocate.

"I forgive you."

* * *

...

...

...

_it's nearing the end... __but these chapters are breaking me emotionally. _

_I mean that was a pretty huge sacrifice on Clive's part. His parents guys. Everything he does is for them. They are the basis of his existence! And they touched Flora. He let them touch her! This kind of symbolized that in a way they would have approved of her. __And Flora. She's been trying to cope with this love and has tried to hide it for so long. She couldn't do it anymore. And he knows she is still scared, but he wants to give her everything to make up for that! His entire fortune. He didn't even want it! That's why he wants to invest it on Flora. His only dream is to make hers come true. Yes their fights were bad, but now whenever they do it's underlying with a concern for one another because they both know that... they need each other just to go on. They are each other's support. They are the only ones who can understand the traumas that they both suffered in their childhoods. Flora was adopted, but even then she is almost an imposter among the Laytons like Clive was. Together, I believe they could overcome all their heartaches and dedicate their lives to making one another happy._

_That's why they are perfectly, dysfunctionally, inevitably meant to be. In my opinion._


	27. Chapter 27

She remembers a memory that night. She is a little girl again at the manor. Everything is so much taller than her. Even the flowers are past her kneecaps.

She plays by these blooms near her mother and chases after a blue butterfly. She had never seen one this color before. She wished to catch it and be its friend for she is sure that secretly it would wish to. Another playmate was always welcome considering there are so few in the village. But she wasn't paying attention and fell into some trouble, headfirst into the neighboring river.

The water was everywhere and little Flora had never swam. The panic escalates her drowning process. A hand quickly dips into pull her out. Her tiny hands reach for him desperately because he is her only hope.

"Matthew! Matthew!" She tries to call the name of her beloved butler, but only bubbles flow out from her mouth. She can feel herself sinking deeper, but the river is shallower for the grown man. Baby Flora clings to him and coughs the water out of her little lungs. Trembling like a scared child does when thoroughly frightened, she clings to his shoulder and wails.

The near death experience had left a lasting impact on her. Matthew smoothed her hair and whispered to her that she was alright. This makes her feel safe again and little Flora's whimpering begins to cease.

But when she pulls away it isn't Matthew... Her memory altered and it is Clive who has saved her.

"Are you alright, cherie?"

She jolts awake in surprise. "Clive?" Silence answers her. So he had left her after all.

Flora wretchedly sobs, cursing the circumstances. "Why do I love him? Ugh! I'm hopeless!" She groans into a pillow to muffle her frustration.

As the time passes her rage ebbs and she only shrinks into herself in a ball of covers. He has gone for good. This time he really wasn't coming back.

How could she let him go? But how could she go? She groans again with every aching heartbeat.

That is when the doorbell rings clear from downstairs.

"Clive!" It has to be him!

She races to the door to find out without thinking of changing out of her nightwear before answering. Swinging the door open, she finds a man with his same light brown shag and eyes. She hurls herself into his arms with complete disregard.

"I knew you'd come back! I knew it!"

"It's good to see to too, Flora!" He hugs her.

Alfendi comes up behind them in the doorframe. He yawns wide enough to expose all the shining metal attached to his teeth and rubs the tiredness from his eye. The doorbell had woken him as well, but he is very unimpressed by their visitor.

"Hi... Uncle Luke." Alfendi grumbles sleepily, barely able to process

…Luke? Luke Triton!

Flora takes a step back from her previous, hasty pounce. It is clear with a glance this is not Clive. She had somehow completely skimmed over his blue button up and same blue cap. And he is wearing glasses! What a tremendous mistake on her part. Especially considering Luke had always had an adorable crush on her as a kid.

He blushes even now that he is full grown. Flora clears her throat, rather bashfully at her behavior, "Luke!? It has been ages. W-what brings you here?"

"The professor, of course! I wanted to surprise him this year and catch up. We only visit so rarely."

"The Christmas cards don't do you justice. You've grown up so much!" Flora smiles warmly at how this gentleboy had become such a gentleman.

Alfendi squints his eyes at Luke in a very scrutinizing way. Normally, he did not pay much mind to his Uncle Luke on any of his visit, "You look... exactly like Clive."

Clive... Just hearing his name jabbed a stake in her soul.

Luke grins at this memory despite it having been his last adventure with the professor, "Clive? I sure haven't heard that name in years, right Flora?"

Flora gulps, "Mmm-hmm..."

Alfendi rubs his eye again, trying to make sure it isn't playing a trick on him, "This is so weird! You guys are twins!" Alfendi cups his hands to amplify his voice, "Clive get in here! Clive?"

"Wait, he's _here_?" Luke gapes in astonishment.

"No..." Flora shakes her head and clasps her hands together shamefully.

"Huh? Yeah he is! He's always here," he tells Luke.

"He left last night..." Flora informs her brother.

"Don't tell me he went to live on the streets again…" Alfendi groans, but he rolls up his sleeves with determination while pushing past the two adults, "I'll find him. But, I am gonna need your bike, Flora."

"He's not on the streets," Alfendi gives her a skeptical look. "At least not in this country."

"You ran him out of London!" Alfendi exclaims at her.

"He left of his own accord! I tried to convince him to stay, but he wanted to move on. It's not like I can help it!"

A friend's hand rests on her shoulder. "I'm sure Clive will be fine..." Luke tries to assure her. Alfendi shrugs, not seeming to care now about his once friend, "Yeah. He's smart enough."

Flora murmurs in a daze. "He is... but... he's going to be all alone. In France."

"Are you ok?" Luke

She brushes her hair back behind her ear while glancing at the ground. "Yeah. You two should catch up... I have work to do."

"But, you are practically unemployed," Alfendi growls under his breath, not at all content with being left to chat with their company.

Luke doesn't catch this ill tone and teases her warmly, "Well hurry up! I want to tell you all about my veterinary clinic. It's the best in town! No, in the state!" He enthuses about what has become his pride and joy.

"Are you still a Private Investigator by night?" Flora remembers this is another field he dabbled in.

"Sometimes," he grins, "It keeps me on my toes! That's for sure!"

Alfendi pokes around Luke's bag in his boredom. He finds a rubber cube to swipe and a juicy detail worth sharing, "Who's the girl sticking out of you satchel?"

Luke's cheeks become a bit pinker than his already happy cheeks usually are, "She's actually an old rival of mine... who... Uh. She's a friend."

"Girlfriend huh," Alfendi deducts beside him. He ventures to the couch to play with this toy puzzle and has the rubix cube complete in the seconds it takes to take a seat in dad's chair. Now, he is trying to create fun patterns within his cube.

Luke's eyes peer to Alfendi from the corner of his eyes and Flora can already sense the usually well hidden tension rising between the two. "He always was observant... Nothing gets past him," Luke whispers.

Flora shakes her head, "Not one detail."

"He's just like Hershel." Luke chuckles to Flora quietly.

"He has that gift," Flora smiles knowingly as her brother tosses the not so puzzling cube aside with boredom.

Luke slips a hand into the satchel pocket and pulls out a photograph with folds. "Actually, she's my fiancée... It's a long story, but not one I'd trade for everything," he tells her proudly.

The picture is evidence enough. Her bashful best friend was engaged. He stands side by side with hands intertwined with the girl. The shot was captured while neither was aware. One could almost see a faint chemistry emit from them despite a certain reluctance between the two. Flora notes to herself that the girl is rather pretty, but doesn't find a feature that stands out with any prominence. She hands it back glumly, a little ashamed of her own jealousy. Not of this other woman in Luke's life, but the fact that he is over her. The younger man now has someone while she was choosing to remain bitter and alone.

"Am I invited to the wedding?" Flora whispers, though it saddens her to ask.

"Why of course, Flora!" Luke then frowns with dismay when he sees she does not share his enthusiasm. Flora immediately straightens her shoulders and curves her lips upward. She brings him into a hug that her truest friend deserved.

"Well then... I can't wait!" she falsifies.

"Thanks!" Luke smiles again, completely fooled.

"I'm sorry... I didn't sleep all that well last night. I think I'll take a nap. The professor should be home soon."

"Sure. Rest up then!"

She escapes upstairs before he can make any excuse to have her stay and reconnect. That could wait until later for she isn't in the mood to do so. Besides, Luke and Alfendi could use the time together to talk if they chose.

Flora does not even bother to change out of her light nightwear. She lies on top of a handmade quilt of her own fingers and tries to block out all of the anguish of her heart. Even though she knows she shouldn't feel this strongly.

A rekindled first love of a stupid teen could not ever amount to a real love. She has to be delusional. Clive hadn't been what she thought at all, but even so... Looking back in hindsight and right through his acting... She believes he cared too. Enough to save her from a doom he had knowledge of. He compromised everything... For a girl he chosen to call his friend. She knows that title wasn't bestowed lightly for him.

And Flora knew what it had been like not to have friends either. Or a family. To run away from home the way she had from everyone who cared about her. She is almost ashamed to have used clothes then to disguise and hide from them. She was so afraid. Everyone was searching for a treasure. How would they have reacted to find the golden apple were only... Her? That girl left after all the tragedy and death was so broken that someone from the outside world had to come save her. But who? Who could save her? She didn't believe in it... But it was Papa's will for her, so she hoped anyway.

The professor had magically exceeded all expectations for a new happy home. She would forever be thankful. But that was a lousy excuse to stay here and she knew it.

On her nightstand, a book she had not left there prior to the night before suddenly stands out to her. Unconsciously, she sits leaning against her headboard, figuring it is one of Alfendi's books that he wanted her to read. He did enjoy a good discussion over his literature. Or rather hers... most of his collection had been pilfered from her own murder mystery collection.

She sees too late that it is a linguistics manual: the one Clive had used for instructions for teaching her French. Already a swell of emotion threatens to explode inside her chest. She clutches her heart and drops the book she holds in her hands into her lap. The book splits open to a page marked with a red ribbon. Her ribbon.

"Mother?" Flora whispers, "That's my mother's ribbon!" She quickly pulls back her hair into a ponytail and sighs in relief.

This is the last artifact of her mother she took with her. The ribbon her mother had worn everyday until her death. Flora had tried to keep the tradition for her after she passed on. It helped her feel connected to the soul she had briefly known.

She had completely forgotten Clive had it. Back when she used it to splint his broken arm. If only she could do the same for her heart. Flora has to wipe her eyes because she is so relieved to have the small string of red satin back in her possession. Clive must have guessed her ribbon had meant so much to her. The fact that she had worn it 10 years ago until the present would have been indication enough.

The page he had marked is in a simple vocabulary chapter having to do with people and basic communication. This is certainly something they must have studied long before. It was so early on in the contents. But she soon sees what he had intended. He had circled one phrase that should have changed everything.

"Je t'aime, Flora." she recites. Beside those words he had written, "Ma cherie." I love you, Flora. My darling.

Beneath those words in smaller handwriting is a very short note explaining why he would be leaving and wouldn't see her. Despite all this, he still loves her, but he was only hurting himself. She would beg to differ.

In the middle of her wallowing the phone rings from the hallway. She composes herself enough to answer, but before she can give her name and the residence she is cut off. The woman calling is absolutely frantic, "Is Flora Reinhold present? Please I must speak to her!"

Flora is taken aback by the urgency, "This is she."

"Listen to me. This is Beth. Don't hang up on me please!"

Flora has no idea what to make of this call from a supposed enemy. Though her curiosity is captivated. "What is it?"

"I'm in a holding cell. I'm their suspect now."

"As you should be," It was only a matter of time until they tracked her down.

"No Flora! I admitted your designs were not mine, but they accepted that as my confession! But I did not steal them. Someone switched your work for mine. I was framed!"

"Framed?" Flora lifts a brow at such a claim, "Why would you tell me this now?"

"I had no idea that I had received credit for your work. I had mailed mine to Stiles just like everyone else waiting for a yay or nay and when I got it of course I was thrilled! But I was set up! It was all a trap!"

What she says strikes her, but she doesn't know if this is really the truth. It did make sense in a way. If she really did mean to steal them how would she have not gotten caught. Flora would have seen her work eventually. That or Beth would have run off altogether.

No matter what the crime would have caught up to her. That she knows. So then, why commit it?

Flora cradles her phone and swallows, "How can I know for sure if I should believe you?"

The line is quiet, until Beth responds with, "I don't know how to convince you. Just... Please come. No one else will." The poor woman sounds as if she is on the verge of tears as well.

Flora nods and picks up her purse, "I'll be there."


	28. Chapter 28

"Luke!" Both Alfendi and Luke look up from the chess board when Flora calls. Alfendi scoots his queen over from a black square to a white square while his uncle isn't looking. Hopefully, he wouldn't notice when his turn arrived.

Flora emerges before them, having changed out of pajamas into a pair of black knee high boots and a cute orange dress with a red scarf. "Luke, I have a favor to ask! Could you drive me somewhere?"

Luke pushes his glasses higher on his nose, "Sure. I still know London like the back of my hand."

"Great!" Flora enthuses, she takes him by the hand and nearly runs away with this chauffeur.

Alfendi shoots her a dirty look as they reach the door, "Let me guess. You want to go after Clive don't you?"

Flora stops to frown at him. It is annoyed, but also pained that he has reminded her of her loss, "No."

"Then where would you possibly want to be so urgently?" Alfendi asks skeptically, almost feeling bad about bringing up the sore subject.

"I need to go to Scotland Yard," she admits, "I need to visit someone there..."

Alfendi's face lights up immediately and he bounds to her, "Is it a criminal? Can I come!"

"No." Flora asserts, "I have my own business to take care of."

"But Flora! I have always wanted to go there!" He begs.

She squints at him and addresses him with confusion in her tone, "You have been there before," she reminds him, "Many times."

"But that was with dad!" He argues with her, "I've never gone with you."

"You are going to stay behind. Chemley and Barton are very busy today and so am I." Flora tells him more forcefully.

Alfendi is not proud of the tantrum he threw, but it had gotten him what he wanted. A success is success, no matter how disgraceful. Only ten minutes after loading into the car, Alfendi sits in the passenger seat while Luke drives. He tries catching up on all of the happenings in Alfendi's life. Flora has left him completely helpless against his boringness because she already fell asleep in the backseat.

What is he supposed to say? It's not like he has friends or any hobbies. What interests are there to share? If he wanted to talk about something eventful he should talk to Flora. She is drama in heels.

"So... What exactly is Clive up to these days?" Luke switches to the sore topic, but he is still not in the loop of the recent happenings. Who could blame him for wanting to know what on earth was going on.

"He's running from his problems, apparently."

"That isn't far from what I imagined. The poor man."

Alfendi is not so sympathetic, "He brought it upon himself didn't he?"

"His story is particularly dreadful if you have heard all of it. He doesn't omit the details in his letters. He did used to be a writer for a newspaper you know. Maybe that's why his writings were so much lengthier."

"No I didn't know." But what is sad about that? Alfendi kicks his legs impatiently, "I wonder if dad wrote him? I think everyone gets the holiday puzzle on our Christmas card."

"I do enjoy those," Luke grins, "Has staying with your family helped him?"

"It did... Until he fell in love with my sister and jumbled it all up!" He spits bitterly.

Luke keeps driving but not with the same focus he had, "Flora and Clive you say?" Why wasn't he more surprised?

"No one saw that coming. I still don't think dad knows. That's why Flora made him skip town. But I'm still telling him."

"She said he chose to leave," Luke recalls.

'Yeah right.' Alfendi wants to gripe aloud. He obviously did not know how their strained relationship worked.

Luke stares at the path ahead, but his eyes seem lost in recollection, "I can see it."

"I remember they hit it off very well when they met. Clive had a protective nature over her. And she never left his side as our group travelled. They were pretty cute back then... Looking back... Of course, I had thought so..."

He shakes his head a bit and shrugs after saying all this. Alfendi pieces it together easily. 'Because Clive had claimed to be Uncle Luke from the future... Luke must have believed that he was going to love Flora by observing their interactions.'

"None of that matters now though. That was years ago. Way before your time, Alfendi. What's done is done and in the past. We've come a long way since then."

Alfendi's hair of crimson falls into his eyes, "Can you really be so naive, Uncle Luke?"

"There's o need to look so scary at me," He cringes in his young nephew's presence.

"The past is not in the past for them. Neither one of them can let it go! You're so far away from this issue in cushy America that you can't even begin to understand how much turmoil they cause for the rest of us!"

Uncle Luke grits his teeth at this before offering his rebuttal, "they weren't the only ones hurt that day. We were all betrayed. By Clive. By Hawks. By Dimitri. By Celeste. I assisted in the unraveling of many lies from the past and thats where the lies stay for me. Once those lies are out in the open change is possible. When people focus on who they were in the past their label sticks on them forever. But knowing your mistakes can allow you to be a different person."

"You're a lot of talk Uncle Luke."

"No I'm not! Look, I used to be an apprentice right? But then circumstances changed. I had to change. I am a veterinarian who still investigates in my spare time. I chose to be that."

"Those are two completely different character changes. Clive is a bad guy. You went from good to better," Alfendi spits back at him

"Alfendi, everyday we can choose what to be. Clive had been a villain, but I know he gave up that act the when he apologized the first time."

"How can you possibly know that?"

"I don't, but I am still entitled to believe what I want."

'He's an idiot,' Alfendi rolls his eyes.

Flora whimpers in her sleep from behind them, "Clive."

'He's an idiot too!' but now he wants to believe Uncle Luke about him being a nice guy, for Flora. Why did adults have to be so dumb?

"Did we have to go to Scotland Yard first?" Alfendi wonders aloud.

"I would assume. Why?"

"If Clive is leaving the country, then where would he go to do that?"

"It depends on where he would want to go..." Luke trails off.

"I know that. It has to be France."

Luke turns his head to him uncertainly, "Why?"

"Call it intuition," Alfendi leaves it at that.

"Well then, my guess is he would take a boat, but the docks are on the other side of town."

"It doesn't matter." Alfendi decides, "We have to stop Clive."

"Alright... Are you sure she won't be angry with us?" Luke asks him.

"There's no way to know," Alfendi shrugs, pretending that he has no idea how furious she would be over this.

She murmurs again sounding distressed, "Nuune..."

'Nuune? What is that gibberish?' Alfendi contemplates this a while while he watches the scenery of the city. They pass Scotland Yard, the police academy, and a bank that was hit by a robbery. They stopped for none of these things, but then again there was no time to lolly gag. As they pass Big Ben the clock chimes twelve times. That is when two pieces of a puzzle finally click for him.

"I can't believe it's noon already," Luke looks to his watch that is still set for America's time.

"NOON! It's noon!" Alfendi shouts. "The boat is leaving_ right now_!" Luke jerks his steering wheel at this sudden fright Alfendi gives him. Everyone is startled by this harsh shift, including Flora who hits her head on the window.

She cries out in surprise and shakes her head from sleepiness, "Luke! What are you doing? Do be more careful!" She rubs her sore temple.

"Luke! Step on it! Before it's too late!"

"Huh?" Flora murmurs in her still groggy state. "Step on what?"

Luke looks to him in alarm despite driving like a madman. They still hadn't reached their destination. They couldn't turn back now. Alfendi exclaims the first thing that he can think of, "A spider!"

Flora yelps like a frightened kitten and lifts her knees to her chin, "Where!? Where is it!"

"Up ahead!" He shouts to Luke. He can see the shipyard emerging in the distance.

"Ew! Get it!" Flora cries.

"We will. Isn't that it on the gas pedal?" Alfendi points, "Floor it, Uncle Luke! Smash it good!"

Luke obeys and swerves down a narrow lane almost missing the turn. Alfendi and Flora fly back in the seats as the vehicle jolts forward at full speed.

"This is absolutely reckless!" Flora chides him and then glances out the window to see they are nowhere near where she wanted to be. "Hey! Where are we?" Flora demands.

Luke keeps driving while Alfendi is left to think of a response. There were no good ones. He remains silent until Flora repeats her question again. Even then he struggles.

"Not Scotland Yard?" He tries.

"I see that! Where are you two taking me! I said I would help Beth!"

"I guess you can't do that now." Alfendi shrugs.

"Then what are we doing?"

"Not helping Beth?"

"Alfendi Layton! What are you up to!" Flora scolds him. He sinks in his seat, just as Uncle Luke pulls up to the curb.

"We're here!" Luke declares, "We have to catch that boat!"

"A boat?" Flora asks them. Al takes her hand and starts to run out on the docks with her in tow. Uncle Luke follows behind them because he ran off as he was locking the vehicle. "I'm starting to think you two may have lost your marbles..."

"I don't like marbles anyway." Alfendi smirks.

"You certainly have a smart mouth today!" Flora has had enough of Alfendi's behavior. "Give me a straight answer! What are we doing!"

"Stopping Clive!" Flora's hand goes limp in his, but he still keeps her running, "You'll miss him too much if he leaves!"

Flora's hand grips his tighter and she is now the one leading the way. They make it to the end of the docks where many giant ships are at rest. Then, Al spots a boat releasing columns of smoke into the sky.

"There! It has to be that one departing!" He regrets telling her this because she nearly rips his arm off to change course and run after it.

"No!" They both watch as it carries away many passengers waving to a crowd of loved ones. She pushes past all of them hurriedly until she reaches the edge, "Clive! Clive!"

"Clive! Come back!" Alfendi shouts too, but the boat is already so far out in the water. He gives up on this quickly and tries to ignore the tears streaming down Flora's face. He bows out in shame.

"No! Clive!" She keeps yelling out to him. She falls down beside him and her shoulders slump with an awful sigh.

"I'm sorry," And he truly is. He hugs her close as tears begin to fall.

Luke finally catches them and is heaving so hard he is about ready to keel over, "Boy... I can't... Run like... I used to." He chokes erratically on his own spit before he can spit out what he is trying to say, "Did you see... That man... Jump?"

"What guy?" Alfendi wonders. What was so great about some guy jumping?

Luke points ahead, "Out there... He jumped... right off... The boat!"

That's when they start to hear various shouts from a distance calling out to a "man overboard". Flora immediately brightens knowing it can only be one man. She wipes the tears on her sleeve, but then suddenly yanks off her boots without even untying the laces. She takes a life preserver right from under some rich yacht owner's nose and takes a giant leap over the water.

"Flora! What are you doing! The water is freezing!" But by the time he says all this she has already splashed in.

* * *

_I'm really sorry I didn't upload for so long. I ended up getting really sick for two weeks and it was pretty bad actually. Then I had finals for school and life was crazy. But now I'm better and ready to finish this story up!_


	29. Chapter 29

Shivering fiercely, she comes buoying back up with her floatation device and kicks towards the distance to reach the one who jumped. The life preserver is keeping her afloat just as it is intended to, but reaching Clive is the lifeline pulling her through the waves. The ship ahead drops its anchor and has let down a lifeboat to get to the man and bring him to safety, but he is swimming away from them, paddling in a lopsided manner in these waves. They rescue him quickly because the small boat is much faster than he. Already those who have saved him are paddling away to the ship to return him aboard.

Flora coughs into the floating ring, but she clings to it desperately. 'No! They couldn't take him away!' What a fool she is jumping into the ocean like this. She cannot swim! Surely she will freeze and for what? The man, Clive or not, has already been rescued. He doesn't need her. What Luke said may not even be an accurate depiction of the circumstance. Maybe this man had been knocked aboard by some unfortunate accident? Had she really not thought any of this through before she had acted? Now she is stranded while no one is here is no one to rescue her here.

"Florrrra!?" A man calls for her in the distance. It is no longer the shouts of Alfendi and Luke begging her to return to the docks. Her head whips up to the only one in the ocean who could be calling her name. He wears a green coat underneath the yellow life vest.

She shivers from the cold but also because she can't believe it is him! It really is! "C-clive!"

"Flora! Stay where you are!" It is easier said then down with these waves tossing her in the air or washing over her hair. She chokes again as she spurts another gargle of salt water. Her fingers become so cold she can no longer feel her grip on her preserver... or her legs. The extra weight of her boots she feared would slow her down, but her icy cool socks were now giving her a higher risk of hypothermia.

She protests regardless, "b-but! I was saving you!" With the break of a wave suddenly there is no differentiation of warmth and cold. She lets out a scream before she slips underneath the water where it is all the same temperature. She has lost her hold on anything in life that allows her to float in safety. Now she is drowning because she had never chosen to swim for herself.

'No! It can't be this way! I have to make it!' She decides then and there as she holds on to the small gulp of air in her lungs. She ferociously kicks her feet with the grace of a mermaid with two left fins. Her arms swoop in a wide arc as if she is flying like a bird. Her natural instincts soon bring her to the shore like a baby whale taking it's first breathe. She gasps in the breath much less calmly than most aquatic mammals, but she is able to keep treading with her chin above the surface.

A crew of hands pulls her out of the freezing sea. Clive is dripping from head to toe just as she is and is the only one who does not let her go as she flops weakly to her knees. Clive quickly wraps her in a blanket he very much needs himself and holds her close in his arms as he sits in the puddle of seawater they had drenched the floor with. She sneezes sheepishly into his shoulder before embracing him fully.

"What were you thinking! You could have died!" Clive hugs her tight. Flora hugs him tighter unable to stop shaking now that she has been brought above the surface. The wind felt like icicles poking her skin. Clive's lips are as blue as hers, but he is still so warm.

"S-says the fool who ab-bandoned a moving ship!" Flora laughs into his neck.

He pulls back to brush her damp bangs from her eyes, "As endearing as always, Cherie," he mocks.

She clings to his body heat buried underneath the life vest, "I'm s-so s-sorry. I'm sorry that I told you I did-dn't love you."

"I understand why you feel the way you do. Goodness, you are positively shaking. Can we get another blanket for her?"

Flora launches up to his lips, the only thing that could really alleviate the chill. Her cheeks must be heating up because his hands are beginning to lose their frigid chill as he pulls her face closer to his own.

"Maybe we do know what love is," Clive grins one of the brightest smiles she has ever seen.

"Like you said. Love never has made sense for anyone," Flora eases with laughter and is relieved the stutter has gone. "I never have been good with such uncertainties."

"Just know you don't have to face anything on your own anymore." He swipes another blanket to cover her and brings his arm over her own while his hands overlap her tiny fists. The waves rock the boat slightly so that they sway with it's rhythm. Their relationship had been rocky before. It still is of course, but the love she is immersed in is undeniable.

One of the rescuing sailors interrupts them. "We will have to take you to shore before we go back. The lady doesn't have a ticket, I'm afraid."

Clive pulls out two soggy tickets from his front sopping jacket pocket, "Actually, if she wishes to accept it, she does." Clive looks to her for conformation while she struggles to overcome her speechlessness.

She realizes it then, "You planned for this."

"Oh... I had a feeling you couldn't resist me for long," he winks. She gives him a playful shove, but has no good comeback to offer. After all, she did go to some trouble to get him back. "What do you say? Would you like to go to Paris today?"

She is excited by this and yet sick to her stomach nervous (or perhaps seasick) she doesn't know how to answer, "I-I suppose! I could..."

He grins with delight to hear it. "To the shore it is!" He declares to them like a captain to the crew.

Flora shakes her head in disagreement. "What? But I said-"

"No it's alright really," he assures, "What little luggage I have is being taken to the new house I bought outside the city. I hired some of Constance's old servants at a generously large salary to do so. It can wait for my return."

"A house!" Flora exclaims. "That's huge!"

"It's actually rather quaint. Or so I've heard. I haven't seen it for myself yet. I do hope they enjoy decorating while I'm away." Clive is clearly awaiting the new home and old friends with much fondness. Flora wouldn't mind helping decorate herself. She would love to be there and plan the decor.

Because of this Flora can't understand his reasoning. "Why wouldn't we go now?"

"Well, there is still much for you to settle in London, even if I am through with it," Clive sympathizes. "You should say a proper goodbye," he points back to the docks many meters in the distance. Luke and Alfendi stand and pace, unsure if she really is returning or not.

She gives his hand a light squeeze, "They deserve that much. Thank you."

She doesn't let that hand go as they step onto the dock. Not when Alfendi tackles her with a hug or when Luke reaches for a handshake with his identical. In the car, Flora shamelessly curls into a ball under the blanket the crew had so generously let her keep and she rests her chin on his shoulder with the puffy life vest while he calmly hums her a peaceful tune. So happily she is drifting, fighting the sleep as long as she could because her dream is in the present.

"How much longer until we get to Scotland Yard, Uncle Luke!" Alfendi whines.

"With the pit stop we made it will be half an hour at the earliest," Luke informs him.

Alfendi groans a lengthy disapproval, "Try not to be all cutesy back there," he gripes at the couple he decided to reunite. Flora can't help smiling at his annoyance, feigned or otherwise.

* * *

_It's not over yet! But I hope you did enjoy the resolution of Flora and Clive! :) A happy ending at last!_


	30. Chapter 30

Clive grips his Cherie's wrist tighter in an attempt to stay attached to her in Flora's rush. She skips the front desk, much to the secretary's dismay, and straight to the interrogation rooms she had been in only days ago. Clive didn't imagine he would be visiting Scotland Yard again quite so soon.

"Are you sure Beth isn't responsible for framing you?" He wonders skeptically.

She doesn't slow her tow on his arm. If she pulls him any faster he is sure he will slip. They are still soaked to the bone and his shoes were sliding and uncomfortably squishy beneath his feet.

"I don't know. That's why I have to hear her explain this for myself."

'I sure wish she would have given me a chance to explain too...' but he doesn't dare speak the thought. Besides, if she had let him go on his way with that simple apology, chances are he never would have befriend Alfendi and stayed to work through all the various pain the years had plagued each of them with. He's actually sort of thankful that their story had played out in this way.

Out in the hallway, Flora and Clive stumble upon Fernando and Velvet waiting to say a statement about their coworker as well.

"Flower?" Fernando quickly corrects himself when he sees Clive holding her close. "-I mean Flora!"

Flora becomes slightly uncomfortable by this and crosses her arms. She tries to take a step away in her strained awkwardness, but Clive does not let her hide behind him. He simply rests his palm over her shoulder to ease her fearful tension.

Fernando is not angry at the sight of them. In fact, he is more than concerned, "What happened! You two are dripping cold!"

Before he can even gape in shock the handsome man is removing his suede coat and placing it on Clive's shoulders. Velvet comes behind Flora as well and drops a fluffy faux fur over her shoulders as well.

Clive nods to Fernando with approval, "Merci."

Flora tugs on her friend's fluffy coat gazing between the two. Clive can hardly conceive this concept as well. Fernando had once been so jealous, and now he is so merciful even though Clive has stolen her away. His eyes still have remorse, but when he catches her staring at the men she had loved he smiles genuinely, "I am glad."

Velvet's eyes are watering with an overflow of emotion as she gazes between her and Clive, "Oh what a love you two have. It's so precious! Er... Sorry there Ferny."

"Yes," Flora contributes sadly, "I am sorry for how things turned out."

"I would not be," Fernando dismisses, "I believe there is a love for me. Being with you has brought me closer to that girl. When I meet her, I will be a better man."

"Wow. That's very... moving Fernando," Clive admits.

"But I am standing," he tilts his head at the way he phrased this, causing Flora to giggle once.

"That girl will be very lucky," Clive smiles at him, trying not to smile at his misunderstood figure of speech. But he does smile at his positive outlook on the situation.

The door opens then and a very dismayed young woman is escorted out with Chelmey. The woman wears work attire from a day before and her usually bouncy curls have fallen with the heaviness weighing her down.

"Beth!" Flora calls to her.

The woman he once saw uphold a great confidence is reduced to this. She tries to hide the fact that she has been crying by wiping her face, but fails atrociously as she spills a whole purse of used tissues.

"Beth? How are you?" Flora asks of her with concern she would show one of her closest friends.

"Ragged." The pretty blonde sniffles. "Flora, you must know I really haven't stolen from you! It must have been a mix up. A simple misunderstanding!"

Flora sighs, "I would rather not press charges, but I will if necessary."

"You need some cold hard evidence! Proof!" Alfendi contributes suddenly, the detective in training ready to offer his services.

"Alfendi? You were supposed to wait in the car!" His sister exclaims with surprise. Clive wonders how he snuck back here. Luke, who is occupying a parking space outside and keeping change in the meter, was on the babysitting duty for them.

"I understand." Beth hugs her purse to her chest shamefully, "But I'm afraid that I don't have anything like that."

Alfendi frowns at her statement with a defeated look, "I can't work with this." He grumbles aloud to Clive.

"Perhaps the whole thing should be dropped," Velvet suggests. "After all, you did get your drawings back and no one was hurt."

"The fact that no one was hurt is a lie if I ever heard one!" Alfendi is a bit too eager to represent his sister. He unnecessarily goes nose to nose with the woman as if she had challenged him personally.

"Flora deserves the truth," Clive agrees with the majority. "We will question Beth. Alfendi you can question Fernando and Velvet about the happenings around that time as well."

"Oh boy!" Alfendi grins while he rubs his deviant hands together with anticipation.

"I can get you an interrogation room if ya like, boy," Chelmey offers under his gruff breath, "You two as well."

"Thank you," Clive says as they each escort a lady into the room and onto opposite sides of the table. The room become quiet once Chelmey leaves them to discuss the matter with her, though he is sure he is listening in on the other side of the one-way mirror.

A single light burns a bulb above him. It reminds Clive of the factory conditions and their poor lighting then too. Upon looking at this defeated woman across from them, something familiar about the way the lamp shines above her facial features.

"Wait... Do I know you?" Clive recalls suddenly.

"You do?" Flora wonders, "How would you know her?"

"Yes. I believe I saw you at the announcement," she half laughs at such a turn of events that had turned out to be. It must be terrible to think one had won when she hadn't and then be blamed for such a theft.

"No," he insists, "You used to come to the factory I worked for. You would pick up the defected toys that couldn't be sold."

"Oh. I don't recall seeing you then. It's a small world isn't it?" She states with a hopeless dryness.

This started to not make sense in his mind, "You used to donate all those toys. Why would you steal Flora's designs?"

"Don't any of you understand? I haven't! I haven't done it! I'm not pursuing a career in fashion anymore. I want to start designing fun toys like those from your factory instead. But if I get convicted for steals no designs I can watch those dreams sail away."

Flora glances to him. It had been only an hour ago that Clive had nearly been taken away on a ship from her.

She clears her throat to rid it of such a sympathetic notion, "I always admired your designs for our youth's line."

"I started a charity for them to provide more clothes for children. I feel as though I fulfilled that purpose now. I want to move on to providing toys for poor children. For their Christmases and birthdays! I want them to be happy too." Beth lets the tears flow silently.

Flora abruptly takes Clive by the hand without a word and pulls him across the room. With a deep breath she speaks her opinion of the situation. Clive had already reached her same conclusion.

"I don't think she did it," they each admit simultaneously.

Flora blinks up at him with her wide eyes and smiles and giggles enough for a spot of gold to appear.

"It would be one thing to listen to this claim on my own. But I'm glad you agree. I wouldn't even have known if her charity work were authentic if you hadn't mentioned it first."

"She has a kind heart... Much like yours," Clive admits. She rests a hand on his chest where his own heartbeat resides.

"So you don't think I did it?" Beth asks across the room, over hearing their entire analysis of the situation.

"No," Flora firmly decides, "We do not."

"Oh thank goodness, you darling dears." She sighs with much relief as they return to sit with her. "I didn't actually realize you two were an item," she admits with a laugh, but without making eye contact with Clive. "But I'm glad you both believe in me."

He reddens because of the night Beth had been hitting on him. He remembers she was indeed pretty, but he had not been attracted to her. That was when he had unknowingly started to fall for Flora. Could it have been only that early Saturday they had shared that kiss?

"We are as of today actually." He says as he clears his throat of the awkwardness.

Beth nods, yet she points an index finger to the both of them and directs them away from one another. "But most recently I heard Flora and Fernando were getting married."

Now it is his Cherie's turn to blush. "That was an office rumor that had been exaggerated," Flora explains uncomfortably.

"Oh I must have confused that with Velvet and Jean..." She mumbles to herself.

Flora tilts her head at this, "Huh?"

"They were married last year. But it is on the rocks. It has been like that for months now." Beth informs her matter-of-factly.

"It is!" Flora exclaims.

"Oh yes," Beth informs, "I heard this directly from Jean himself."

"She hasn't said anything like that! Why wouldn't she tell me!"

"She probably was too ashamed to reach out," Clive reassures her with a gentle touch of his hand over hers.

Suddenly, Flora's eyes seem to glaze with a certain understanding. "That's what she meant... I thought she meant that Fernando was planning to propose to me, but that wasn't it at all. She was trying to show me that I wasn't in love with him. She was telling me I needed to have more in common with him then just our fashion background. She was trying to push me towards you instead because she saw that I was in love with you, Clive. Before even I saw it."

The door to their interrogation room flings into the wall so hard it actually bends the springy doorstop irrevocably, "Flora! I found the culprit! She confessed to everything!"

Clive immediately narrows it down to the only other female presently a coworker of Flora's and in the building Scotland Yard, "You can't mean... Velvet!?"

"Of course I do!" Al barks.

Flora shoves them aside to escape the room. Clive and Alfendi follow close behind as she returns to the hallway to confront her friend.

Or rather... Comfort her friend.

Fernando stands beside her with a hand on her shoulder while she sobs into her hands with a grief of betrayal. Ever so quietly, Flora takes a seat beside her and brings her into her arms.

"Flora! I'm so sorry I did what I did! I couldn't stand the thought of my only friend leaving me all alone. I was being so selfish."

"Why didn't you tell me about Jean?" Flora consoles her calmly.

"I was jealous I think. You had Fernando and Clive who loved you. I even suspected Jean thought you were prettier than I was. I resented that. But it was wrong of me to. I'm so ashamed of myself!"

"I'm sorry about Jean," Flora truly bids her. "Is there no salvaging your marriage?"

"I don't know. It hasn't been better. He cheated on me one night. I'm afraid he has lost all interest in me. He's tried to win me back, but I don't know! I don't even know if I want him back!"

"Do you still love him?"

"I don't know anymore. I want things to be the way they were!"

Flora glances to Clive once again, saying her next words while looking to him, "It's hard to forgive people for a despicable act, but it's not impossible."

"Should I give Jean a chance even after what he has done to me?" Velvet asks as she wipes away tears.

"I can't say... That is for you to decide. Jean is going to have to really try to make things right. But, you also have to let him..."

The friends hold another until Velvet finishes her cry. Fernando is there to offer a hug and condolence as well. Even Beth doesn't hold a grudge for the framing and offers her tissues.

Alfendi sighs in relief beside Clive, "That's more like Flora."

At the end of the day no charges are pressed. Everyone returns to their respected homes instead of staying overnight in a cell. Clive is so glad for that. He reclaims Flora into his arms and they sit in her magical garden for the very last time. The flowers are still in bloom as the leaves fall into their heads and shoulders from the tree changing seasons above them.

Flora cuddles into him closer, almost in his lap at this point, "Will there be room for a garden at our new house?"

"The house is pretty secluded. You could have ten gardens if you wanted," he grins. He watches her face light up as well as the yellow birthmark on her collarbone.

Her voice raises an octave with a squeal of delight, "This will be stupendous!"

"It will be now that you'll be there," Clive leans in for the kiss when he hears a clear of a throat.

"I assume you were going to inform me of this?" The professor directs at the both of them.

Flora straightens up from her curled up kitten position and now displays a perfect ladylike posture. Clive stands as well to be the gentleman and try to explain, but his shoulders sag when nothing comes, "How much did you hear?"

"Enough to understand how you feel for one another," he smiles with earnest.

Clive's shock leaves his jaw open and his words stammering, "R-really? Just from that?"

"That... And the countless nights you two would spend talking a night away." The professor adds.

Flora stands now, completely appalled, "You've been eavesdropping?"

"No no!" The professor corrects her with his hands still held high to his defense. "I would only hear tidbits of your lessons from my study where I was grading my papers. From the way you two spoke towards each other then... I knew it would only be a matter of time."

Clive and Flora share a look. He certainly had no idea he had been there all those nights. Clive then gets a sinking feeling that he was listening in to make sure no funny business was happening so late at night. Even the professor knew they were falling in love before they had. Hershel was a much more protective father than Clive had originally thought.

"Oh professor..." Flora sighs, "I really should have told you." But the professor does not listen to this apology at all and only pulls her close to give her a kiss atop her head.

"I love you, Flora," he reminds her before she would soon leave him, "You will always be my daughter."

His little girl bursts into tears and clings to him with such a love Clive is unsure if he will ever be getting her back. But then, she comes to him and embraces him as her eyes dry against his jacket.

"Just don't let her get lost in the big city. She gets carried away when she explores."

"Dropstone was one time, dad!" She laughs at him.

"One time too many," he chuckles, "I don't want to lose you dear."

Flora can't help smiling, until she truly considers her absence. "Are you sure you and Alfendi will be alright without me?"

"We will be," the professor promises her. Then with a tip of his hat he suggests, "Why don't you go inside and begin packing up?"

"I will!" Flora enthuses. She races to the house to do just that. Clive suspects this will keep her busy for the next week...

The professor tips his hat lower once she has gone and only then does Clive realize why. A few sniffles escape Hershel at the loss of a daughter. Before Clive can reach out to him the professor rests a hand on his shoulder.

"Do take good care of her for me," the professor begs of him.

"I won't let anything happen to her," Clive tells him, "Not as long as I live."

The professor removes his hat then and reaches inside the depths. When his fingers return a ring has appeared in them, "I don't like the idea of a man living with her without being betrothed to marry."

Clive laughs at this unintentionally, but then corrects himself as he confesses, "I've actually already got that covered." He pulls out a jewelry case from his buttoned jacket pocket. A bit of water spills out when he opens it, but inside is a beautiful golden band with a slightly larger diamond count than the ring Hershel is presenting, "If it does not offend you I would like to use the one I picked out for her."

"I wouldn't have it any other way," Layton smiles, "Perhaps Alfendi will need this one in time."

Clive can't really imagine it, but maybe Alfendi would be tamed enough at some point to fall in love in the years to come. "Perhaps."

"I also want you to have this," the professor teaches into his jacket and pulls out a worn piece of paper.

"What is it?" He asks too soon, but upon closer inspection he knows it can only be one thing, "It truly will be an honor to have you as an in-law some day, professor."

"And you as a son, my boy."

"I think you are forgetting who you are talking to, professor! I have always been your best apprentice!" Luke shouts from the back door."

The professor's face lights up at discovering his new guest, "Luke, my boy! It's been too long!"

"I've got a spot of tea on the table. They are waiting for us to catch up!" Luke offers.

While the apprentice and professor both attend to their own matters. Clive carefully folds the tattered piece of paper around the ring and saves it for a future date.

* * *

_And this is pretty much the end. However, I have at least three more epilogue chapters I'd like to do. _

_Thanks so much for reading my stories everyone. This has been so much fun. I'll probably take a break for a while. But I hope to think of a new story line soon. Maybe one for Luke Triton. _

_But like I've mentioned before I want to write a novel. So I want to take some time to develop my own characters and build onto that. Thanks again for everything!_

laytonisawesome.


	31. Chapter 31

"Aren't you ever going to tell me where we are going?" Flora giggles in the passenger seat.

Her now boyfriend holds her hand with a grin. He could not hinder the surprise he has planned, "I've heard patience is a virtue, Cherie," he winks in his devilishly handsome way.

The landscapes of London seems much more familiar than usual, but to state exactly where they are even he couldn't put his finger on. She speaks her fears wondering if they have lost the way. Where they are going it is very far out and excluded from the rest of civilization.

"Nearly there!" Clive announces to her with one last glance of a page he has kept to his side for his eyes only. Flora giddily scoots forward in her seat to see where it is they are arriving. A place only she would recognize.

The wall is the first thing to spot with the road they travel leading straight to a drawbridge. Her face falls with astonishment and Clive can't help letting a small chuckle out, "Aren't you glad now I hadn't spoiled it?"

Frantically, she tries to release herself from her seatbelt, "Ah! I'm stuck! I have to get out of this!"

"Easy now," he assures, "I know you must be excited."

"No no no!" She corrects him, "I can't go back there!" She releases her buckle and with the agile grace of a three-legged cat she hops into the backseat of their yellow automobile.

"Flora?" Clive wonders at her peculiar behavior.

He parks the car short of their destination to turn and find a shivering mass hiding under the picnic blanket he had packed. She tugs on the blanket tighter to keep it over her head. A gentle hand carefully lifts a corner to find her usually friendly face peering back with a great distress plaguing her.

He brushes back her curly bangs tenderly, beginning to understand his misconception, "I take it you are a little nervous then?"

Flora dips her head shamefully, "I've never come back. Not once! How can I show my face here?!"

Clive brushes his thumb under her chin, "It's a face they will recognize, but it is because they will finally stop missing you."

"I abandoned them. They'll hate me!" Flora insists.

Clive ponders for a moment before he comes up with an idea. He scavenges in the car and comes up with a pair of Flora's large sunglasses with the rhinestones on the side. Flora watches as he exits the car long enough to get a floppy sun hat from the trunk. She pokes her head out of her little bundle in her curiosity and Clive quickly places the two accessories.

"They can't hate you if they don't know you. I'll be right beside you. We are just two passerbys enjoying a small getaway weekend."

Flora tugs on her hair and adjusts it so that most of it is over her shoulders and her bangs are over her eyes, "Do you think this will fool them?"

"I'm sorry, who are you again pretty miss?" Clive teases her as he tips her hat over her nose. Flora carefully evacuates the vehicle in her blinded, giggly state.

Despite her disguise she feels an uneasiness as the drawbridge is lowered. Clive carries the two trunks towards the inn when Flora directly encounters her first villager. She is a short elderly woman with the kindest eyes she had ever known. While growing up, this is the only woman she would ever consider to be like a grandmother to her.

In Flora's aversion she collides into Clive's side. His suitcase drops and spills his clothes upon the ground. They kneel down together very closely and Flora uses the opportunity to inform quickly, "Ingrid! She was my nanny! She is going to know!"

He is about to console her when the little, elderly simulated robot comes hobbling up to them. "Well aren't you a beautiful sight," her old eyes crinkle with friendliness, "It's not often we get visitors."

"Is that so?" Flora peeks up from under her sun hat. It feels absurd because the sky above is nothing but clouds.

"What a quaint little town for our vacation, isn't it, Cherie? I am Clive, it is wonderful to meet you," he smiles at Ingrid.

"Oh! What a handsome young man you are!" she fawns over him much to Clive's bemusement, "Nice and strong with a voice like honey. You certainly have a keeper!" She winks to Flora who displays a crawling blush rising on her neck.

Clive laughs at his flustered girlfriend's expense, "We ought to check in. Nice to meet you!" Flora disappears on his arm and breathes a side of relief beside him.

For the rest of their day, Flora begins to slowly blossom with happiness and the shyness melts away. They have lunch at the restaurant owned by a man named Crouton. She takes him to a beloved fairground falling apart at the hinges. He took a snapshot of her by a poster of herself from all that time ago and he cannot decide whose is smile is bigger. Somehow, the Ferris wheel had been dumped in the pond of all places despite its base being in the opposite corner. This was not as big a mess as the pile of rubble at the north end of town where her temporary home had come crumbling down.

"Didn't you say that you had a garden?" Clive requests, as they conspicuously pass the only fork they hadn't explored in town, "Is it east of here?"

"Yes, but... that's the manor. Not just anyone gets invited there." Flora explains to him sensibly. She is about to steer away when a very rude girl makes a sudden comment.

"Says the heiress!" A villager girl with short hair and a cap scoffs at her. She giggles with a hand over her mouth.

"An heiress? I don't believe so!" Flora tries to dissuade her, but quickly dives behind Clive.  
This is when she realizes everyone isn't just staring at the uncommon visitors in their town like he had lead her to believe.

"I think the jig is up," He informs Flora much to her dismay. The villagers now come up to her one by one and are even speaking toward her by name.

"You all knew?" She asks aloud for all of them to hear.

"Of course we did! But we didn't want to pester you, Miss Flora," Says the timid man with a clown-like appearance, "We wouldn't want to frighten you!"

As a crowd begins to assemble, another chimes, "You abandoned your fortune and let us keep enjoying our lives."

"We love you, Flora!"

"You mean the world to us!"

"Welcome home!" The gathering is soon overwhelming even for Clive who is linked to their princess by the elbow. He checks to see how his Cherie is reacting to such an uproar.

Flora's nervousness has ultimately dissolved. A timid grin replaces the unease as she steps out towards them. She glances to Clive as she slowly lowers her glasses. He gives her a forceful, but encouraging push. The wind catches her hat as she soars into the many arms that wished to embrace her. He had never seen so many robots moved to tears before... This would be a once in a lifetime sight he assumes. So many faces that all held an unfading love. Flora must have inherited such a quality from these various villagers.

"Let's all visit the manor! Come along everyone!" She declares.

A parade of people follow her east in boatloads. It took more than one trip to get them all across the river... Flora tentatively rings a doorbell and knocks on the door. She cannot wait long enough for her beloved butler to answer and throws open the door herself as he is coming to greet the manor's visitor.

Her beloved friend stands blinking up at her she sees that tears have welled in his eyes. Flora kneels on one knee to hug him, their most loyal and hardworking servant.

"F-flora Reinhold... Welcome home," he cries in her loving embrace.

"How I've missed you all. Especially you, Matthew. You've taken such good care of the manor in my absence!"

The crowd behind her slowly begins to pile in as the common community observes the luxury of the posh house. Immediately their attention is set on the room to the right of the bookcase. Inside is a mountain of gold that would take them 5 lifetimes to spend. They stand as far as they can to the left of the foyer, many of them very wary of the room.

Clive is unaware of their discomfort and walks up to the doorway, "What is with all that treasure? Kinda flashy don't you think?"

"Don't you touch ANYTHING!" Flora scolds him with the rage of a stampeding bull. She huffs through her nostrils in her provoked anger, "If you do I'll never forgive you!"

He takes a step back when he observes this harsh message, "Did I do something wrong, Cherie? What is so unforgivable? I'm confused!"

Matthew quickly explains the danger with a serious somberness, "I applied sir! I should have informed you! The room has pressure plates. If you lift one coin from it's place we will all shut down."

"You mean... You'll all... die?" Clive clarifies for himself with horror.

"Flora loved her villagers all too much too let them become a memory," Matthew explains.

Her love looks to all the people in her life she chose to preserve. Then Clive's eyes fall on her. They hold their usual adoration, but there is something more. Awe.

"MATTHEW!" The butler becomes hyper alert to a woman's voice that hollers from above. Flora quickly ducks behind Clive in a childlike fright. The habit of hiding from her mother look-a-like is still very much within her. Lady Dahlia stands atop the stairs, baffled by the amount of people who have invaded her home.

Then she remembers she is not a child. She swallows the lump in her throat and decides the least she can do is offer her a greeting. "H-hi... Dahlia. This was my idea. I'm sorry if I've caused you inconvenience."

The woman's features soften at the sight of this girl. It was odd to know that Dahlia was specifically programmed to care about her as if she were her daughter. Even so, Flora could not help feeling guilty for not returning any affections.

"I'm sorry, I wanted to celebrate my homecoming. I should have considered your feelings," Flora apologizes again.

"They may stay if that is what you want, Flora. I truly don't mind," Dahlia speaks in a more soft spoken tone. "I'm just so happy to see you again!"

The woman is soon down the steps and holding her in her rams. Flora hugs the curious woman as well so that she may finally be fulfilled and experience love from a child she considers her own. Old fluffy Claudia hobbles in his old, old age and brushes up to Flora's ankles. He hisses at Clive the instant he reaches to stroke the boy cat. Flora is released after a short eternity when Clive makes a request, "May Flora and I see the garden for a short while?"

"Why of course," Dahlia smiles, "MATTHEW! Escort them, would you please!" She demands of him impatiently. He begins to scramble to oblige in his nervously obedient manner.

"There is no need," Flora assures her friend, "I can escort Clive myself."

He grins with all his teeth, probably excited to finally have a lunch break alone with only her, "Let me get our picnic basket."

Out the back door and down a path, Flora leads Clive to the secluded cemetery where she spent most of her childhood. Every surface has blooms that are flourishing just the way they used to. In her excitement she lets out a happy squeal and rolls into the personal meadow. She lies on her back as if she were ready to make a snow angel, but she had already smushed enough of these pretty flowers. As she sits up however they spring right back up with little harm.

"Here I come!" Clive teases as he sets down the basket and comes bounding to her. He dives into a grassy patch beside her and leans his head against her hand that was ready to prevent the suspected tackle. He sighs with such mischief in his eyes, "You're no fun. You know that?"

"Aren't I?" She pounces upon him to place a kiss on his already parted lips.

"Ok maybe a little," he chuckles as she settles herbed and arms on his chest for a brief rest.

Clive strokes her hair and after a while when she could nearly have found a nap he tugs on her red ribbon, "You said your parents are here, correct? Shouldn't we visit them?"

Mama and Papa? Her eyes open to see Clive gazing back at her with a serious expression.

"You want to... Meet them?"

"Yes," he nods. "Will you show me?"

Flora sits up and swallows, feeling rather nervous for not having reason. This encounter couldn't go badly after all. "Right this way."

They cross the little stream that ran from the larger river in front of the manor. Clive is very careful to hold tight to their picnic basket for fear of dropping their lunch. She stops when they come to the small hill where her parents are located for their final rest. She sits between them and hugs her knees, pretending that the stones on either side have ghostly arms that are reaching over her shoulders. Oh how she misses them.

Clive crawls on his knees until he is in front of her with his little basket. "Flora may I ask you something?"

She nods, trying to hold in her emotions.

"I would like to ask a special permission of you..." He blushes horribly and cannot look up from his knees he is kneeling on as if he is terribly ashamed. "It occurred to me... There is nowhere else safer than here..."

Flora is very confused by his clumsy bashfulness, "What is it?"

He empties the basket he had been carrying. The only two things inside were two urns, "May my parents... Stay here too?"

To say she is speechless would not give the phrase its rightful meaning. She is breathless for sure. But her mind also halted. Flora's thoughts froze as well. The only thing she could register was Clive before her with this deep longing for her blessing to allow him to share such a sacred place with him and his family.

The only thing that seems right to her is to stand from where she was sitting and set the two urns beside her parents. She could now feel the presence of four loving parents watching over her. This additional burial must mean more than the world to Clive because it this already has completed her universe. Now her parents seem so much less lonely.

She turns to Clive who has raised one knee and is leaning upon it weakly, "Thank you, Flora."

"I love you, Clive. This is the least I could do." She assures him, though she sways from her heels to her toes.

"You are... The most amazing woman I have ever met. This is unbelievably generous. And the love you show towards everyone... your kindness... You let this whole village thrive because you didn't care about a stupid fortune... You are...

She tilts her head, becoming much more interested in this monologue, "Go on..."

"You are going to be my wife!" he insists as he lifts his head to reveal a glittering ring.

"Whaaaat?!" And she thought she was speechless before! He jumps up and slides it on her finger in one swift movement.

"A perfect fit!" He kisses her cheeks before he begins to tug her away towards the manor.

She is suddenly able to find a voice again, "Don't I get a say in this!?" Flora exclaims at him without trying to pull away.

It would seem not. He runs away with her, tugging her by the hand while her feet hardly keep up.

"Are-are you kidnapping me?!" She wonders with only an ounce of fright. She is less opposed to running off to marry him if that is what he is planning.

"Oh please, I know better than that," he scoffs at her.

They burst through the doors where the entire village was conversing until they were interrupted by their clamorous entry. All eyes are on them to Flora's discomfort being the introvert she tends to be. Clive, however, needed them all for his announcement.

"I want Flora to marry me!" He echoes loud enough for everyone to hear. "Who thinks she should say yes!?"

With no reluctance they cheer their encouragement. It seems a great deal of them already approve of Clive. Many also are shouting phrases such as "when is the wedding?" And "oh what a beautiful bride she'll be!"

Flora laughs at their excitement, "Wait! I haven't answered yet!"

"We'll give the boy an answer!" A gruff voice calls out. She can't help giggling all the more.

"Clive..." Flora begins. He quickly gets down on his knee again and takes her hand that already has his ring.

He flutters his eyelashes on a mischievous way, "Yes, my Cherie? The apple of my eye? Mon amour?"

"Ohhhh my," Flora whispers to him feeling a blush creep up on her, "What am I going to do with you?"

"Marry me?" He asks hopefully.

She glances down to her toes with a stupid grin on her face. Even before she could say it she could feel her birthmark, the golden apple, glowing vibrantly from her joy. "Of course! Yes! A thousand times yes!"

Clive leaps up and twirls her around with happiness. The entire town erupts in applause on behalf of their engagement. Now their crowd commentary is suggesting a banquet party in their honor. Flora must admit her tummy is rumbling from not having a proper lunch after their adventures of the day.

"Flora dear? May I have a moment with you?" Lady Dahlia interrupts from afar. It is so unlike her to be unsure of herself. Flora does not know what this could entail but she is no longer scornful at all and sees nothing wrong with the request.

Her step mother leads her upstairs and to her bedroom closet. Flora sits on a bed patiently with little ease, but she does wish to know what this is about. She watches the woman dig into the deepest corner or the cramped wardrobe of pretty dresses, but the one she pulls out makes her gasp.

"This was Violet's... I thought you should have it for your own day if you so wish."

The tears flow freely at such a beautiful sight. The creamy, beautiful satin gown even smells faintly of her. "Oh Dahlia! Thank you!"

"Try it on, Flora! We must see if it needs any adjustments. Matthew can tailor it for you!" She shouts for the butler's presence almost as an impulse, "MATTHEWWW!"

It slips on with little resistance. It fits her slender frame very well, but she must have been much shorter than her mother. Even Dahlia's heels are not enough of a boost to her height.

Matthew arrives promptly within the minute. He is simply dazzled by the beautiful girl he had long ago helped raise and watched grow into a young adult. It brings the old man to tears to see her as a woman. He quickly wipes his eyes and sets to work threading a needle. "What a vision you are. If only Lady Violet were here..."

"Yes," Flora murmurs to herself.

"Matthew!" Dahlia scolds him, "Don't make her feel distraught!"

"T-terribly sorry!" He amends, "I did not mean to upset you!"

"You haven't..." Flora assures both of them, "I'm very content."

When the hemming session is over Flora requests to be alone to take in this dress. She wonders if her mother was this happy when she was to wed her father. It only felt right that Flora should wear this dress and make new happy memories with her own husband to be. She spins one way and the next, watching the elegant white fold like a dove's wing.

Flora Dove... It did have a nice ring to it.


End file.
